J 
 
BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ENGLAND FROM A BACK-WINDOW. 
 Fourth edition now ready. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The sketches are not mere humorous* exaggerations, but contain 
 a great deal of very sensible observation and graphic description." 
 Baltimore Gazette. 
 
 THEY ALL DO IT; 
 
 OK, 
 
 MR. MIGGS OF DANBURY AND HIS NEIGHBORS. 
 Illustrated. Cloth, $1.00. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 LIFE IN DANBURY: 
 
 BEING A BRIEF AND COMPREHENSIVE RECORD OF THE 
 
 DOINGS OF A REMARKABLE PEOPLE UNDER 
 
 MOST REMARKABLE CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 i6mo. Illustrated?" Cloth, $i .00. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES M. BAILEY, 
 
 "THE DANBUEY-NEWS MAN," 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ENGLAND FROM A BACK-WINDOW," "LIFE IN DANBURY,' 
 "THEY ALL DO IT," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 CHARLES T. D1LLINGHAM. 
 
 1879- 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1879, 
 BY LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 
 All rights reserved. . 
 
A CONCILIATORY WORD. 
 
 DEAR READER, this is a simple story, simply told. It is 
 not designed to excite, but to improve. If it is not attrac- 
 tive, it is because it is true, and finds a cruel emphasis all 
 about you. If the little volume should make a single hus- 
 band more tender, a single wife more patient, and sell well, 
 I will feel that my labor has not been in vain. 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 942094 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE NEW JOURNEYMAN 7 
 
 H. THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT . . 17 
 
 III. MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL . . 24 
 
 IV. PUBLICATION DAY 36 
 
 V. AT THE PRAYER-MEETING 44 
 
 VI. THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE . . -55 
 
 VII. DOCKERTY 69 
 
 VIII. AT TEA AT QUIMBY'S 78 
 
 IX. MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY ... 87 
 
 X. THE WEDDING-EVE 97 
 
 XL AT LAST 104 
 
 XII. MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. . . .112 
 
 XIII. REDNER WRITES A LETTER 121 
 
 XIV. IN THE NEW HOME ...... 132 
 
 XV. MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF . . 139 
 
 XVI. IN WHICH ONE OF THE CHARACTERS FADES 
 
 AWAY 150 
 
 XVII. TOM GRIGGS GETS OUT ON THE WRONG SIDE 
 
 OF THE BED: 157 
 
 XVIII. DESTINY COLLARS MR. PHILLIPS .... 169 
 
 XIX. WERE THEY BILIOUS? 174 
 
MR. PHILLIPS' 1 GONENESS:' 
 
 THE STORY OF A WEDDED LOVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE NEW JOURNEYMAN. 
 
 GALLOWHILL, two hours' ride by rail from Bos- 
 ton, boasted one paper, " The Gazette." " The 
 Gazette " was published every Tuesday, at two dol- 
 lars per annum, strictly in advance, as is customary 
 with village newspapers. The office of " The 
 Gazette " was on the second floor of a two-story 
 brick block on Main Street. The office was ap- 
 proached by a stairway from the street, which 
 stairway led directly into the printing-room, with- 
 out the preface of a hall, and, so communicating 
 with no other portion of the second floor, was de- 
 voted exclusively to the uses of " The Gazette " 
 and its patrons. On the risers to the steps were 
 placards in bold black type, setting forth the 
 name of the paper, and the fact that the art 
 preservative was carefully manipulated in all its 
 
S MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 branches. On the steps were various accumula- 
 tions of dust, reverently spared by the broom, 
 which semi-weekly passed down the middle of the 
 way, --bits of printed paper twisted into wads, 
 and smeared with ink, and bits of white and col- 
 ored capers,, the refuse of the cutter, either dragged 
 there by the all-comprehensive feet of rural visit- 
 ors, or dropped there by children coming away 
 with supplies for their own use. 
 
 The plastered walls on either side were smeared 
 with ink, in designs having no intelligible signifi- 
 cance, and in designs with plenty of significance. 
 Who made these marks, no one knew: further- 
 more, no one could tell when they were done. 
 They are common to all stairways approaching 
 country printing-offices, attracting no comment, 
 and stimulating no research. The editor of " The 
 Gazette " supposed, when he gave the matter any 
 thought at all, that they were laid on by the plas- 
 terer when the walls were made ; an extremely 
 natural supposition, and, likely enough, the only 
 reasonable one possible. 
 
 There was a board partition enclosing the stair- 
 way opening, with a door at the head. This im- 
 provement had been made by the present editor of 
 "The Gazette." For the many years preceding 
 his coming, the business of the office had required 
 no door, and simply a rail in place of the partition, 
 to keep anxious subscribers and abstracted con- 
 tributors from backing off, and imperilling the pan- 
 elling of the street-door. 
 
THE NEW JOURNEYMAN. 9 
 
 The printing-office was an almost square apart- 
 ment, with very little spare room, all space having 
 been intelligently economized. There were the 
 racks for the cases of type, so arranged as to com- 
 mand the best light ; the imposing-stones ; a hand- 
 press for printing the paper ; two treadle-presses 
 for job-work ; and the various machinery and ap- 
 pliances common to a country printing-office. A 
 prominent feature was a rusted stove, with draught 
 always opened to its fullest capacity. It has come 
 to be doubted if it is possible to modify the draught 
 to a country printing-office stove ; and, whatever 
 may be the pattern of the article, this dreadful 
 peculiarity seems to be either built into it at its 
 inception, or ingrafted thereon by some invisible 
 process when it is set up. It is because of this 
 that a country printing-office consumes more coal 
 than a blacksmith-shop. It is a most astounding 
 phenomenon. 
 
 The sanctum of " The Gazette " was indicated 
 by a desk and a chair, both over the stairway, and 
 lighted by one of the three front windows. 
 
 It was on a Monday evening in January, 1876. 
 Three gas-jets were burning in the office of "The 
 Gazette." One of them was over the editorial 
 desk ; another was over a rack in the rear of the 
 room ; and the third lighted an imposing-stone. 
 The shades over these jets were admirable in con- 
 centrating the light upon the objects beneath 
 them, but threw the greater part of the room into 
 deep shadow. The stove was red all . round with 
 
10 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 the tremendous effort it was making to impart the 
 least amount of heat with the greatest amount of 
 coal. 
 
 A tall, slim man was at work at the rack under 
 the gas-jet. Occasionally he would pass to the 
 lighted stone, adjust a line in the form resting 
 thereon, and then return. He worked and moved 
 silently, and in passing to and fro would lose 
 himself in the shadow, only to re-appear in the 
 light with startling abruptness. 
 
 At the desk sat Thomas B. Griggs, editor of 
 "The Gallowhill Gazette," and "plain and orna- 
 mental job-printer," as the advertisement on the 
 left hand of the title-page of the paper, and vari- 
 ous bill-heads, letter-heads, and cards on the desk, 
 indicated. He was a young man, scarcely thirty, 
 with a shapely head, curly brown hair, mustache 
 a shade lighter than the hair, a prominent nose, 
 which always indicates depth of character and 
 firmness of purpose to the owner and immediate 
 relatives, and other well-formed features. Aside 
 from a stain of ink on the second ringer of his 
 right hand, and an abstracted air on his face, there 
 was nothing in Mr. Griggs' appearance to inform 
 a casual observer that he was an editor ; and yet 
 he had been at the head of " The Gazette " two 
 whole years, and had worked faithfully upon its 
 columns all that time. He was now hard at work 
 preparing copy for the paper of the morrow, and 
 he worked like one in a nervous hurry. There 
 was a pile of newspaper clippings at his side, and 
 
THE NEW JOURNEYMAN. II 
 
 close to it the trusty paste-pot ; but it was with 
 neither of these he was engaged. Several sheets 
 of manuscript occupied his attention, and very 
 closely held it, judging from the contraction of his 
 brows. 
 
 "What an infernal mess'!" he ejaculated. 
 
 "What's that, Tom?" asked the tall, slim man, 
 without raising his head. 
 
 "This communication from Holcomb." 
 
 The tall, slim man lifted his head on hearing the 
 name, and turned what would have revealed an 
 anxious face, had the shadows permitted, toward 
 his chief. 
 
 "You ain't agoin' to publish any of his stuff 
 to-morrow, are you ? " 
 
 "That'll depend a good deal on whether I'm 
 able to make it out by that time," was the grim 
 reply. 
 
 " Well, if you do, we won't get out till midnight," 
 said the tall, slim man gloomily. " We're two 
 columns behind now ; and, if we've got to tackle 
 his manuscript, we're up the spout sure for this 
 week. How much is there, of the infernal stuff ? " 
 
 "About a column." 
 
 " Holy Moses ! " gasped the tall, slim man. 
 
 The editor counted over the sheets of Mr. Hoi- 
 comb's unfortunate manuscript, and said, 
 
 " I won't use it this week. I'll tell him it got 
 mislaid. He's an old nuisance anyway;" and with 
 this compromising opinion the conscientious editor 
 dropped the subject. "We ought to have another 
 man, and I must see about it," he added. 
 
12 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 And then he turned to the clippings, and pro- 
 ceeded to paste them on a slip of paper, making 
 alterations in some of them on the margin. While 
 thus engaged, a step was heard on the stairs. 
 
 " I wonder who on earth that can be," he pet- 
 tishly thought. 
 
 The step ascended. There was a moment of 
 fumbling about for the latch, and then the door 
 opened, and some one entered. The new-comer 
 saw the tall, slim man at the case ; and he worked 
 his way to him through the shadows that lay upon 
 the racks and machinery in his way. The object 
 desired looked up at the sound, and curiously 
 toward the comer. 
 
 " Is the editor in ? " asked the visitor. 
 
 The tall, slim man had never before heard the 
 voice ; and he looked hard at the face, to make 
 sure that he had never before seen the owner, and 
 then he said, 
 
 "Yes: there .he is," and pointed to the desk. 
 
 The stranger worked his way through the 
 shadows to the place indicated; while the tall, 
 slim man, understanding he was a stranger, made 
 his business his own, as was eminently proper in 
 the foreman of a country printing-office, and, drop- 
 ping his work, turned his full attention upon what 
 was going forward. The visitor, reaching Editor 
 Griggs, set down the very thin bag he carried, and 
 removed his hat. 
 
 As far as the light would permit, the editor saw 
 a young man, apparently not more than twenty, 
 
THE NEW JOURNEYMAN. 13 
 
 with sallow features, and a restless expression to 
 his eye that was easily noted even in the imper- 
 fect light. He wore his hair, which was black 
 and straight, rather long;, and the hat which he 
 removed was a slouch, of which the brim, like the 
 hair it covered, was more in quantity than the pre- 
 vailing style sanctioned. His whole appearance 
 was so strongly indicative of an intensely poetic 
 nature, that the heart of the editor sank within 
 him. He glanced at the rusty bag, and sighed. 
 
 "You are the editor, I believe?" suggested the 
 stranger. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I have called to see if I could find work with 
 you at type-setting." 
 
 The revulsion of feeling in the breast of the 
 editor that set in on the receipt of this informa- 
 tion was too great for concealment. He half rose 
 from the chair in the excess of his emotion. 
 
 "You want a 'sit,' eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Are you pretty rapid ? " 
 
 " Not very. I have had some two years' experi- 
 ence at the case, and can set pretty good ; but I 
 am not able to earn big wages." 
 
 Tom Griggs' face brightened up at this last. 
 "The Gallowhill Gazette" was not pecuniarily in 
 a condition to pay big wages. 
 
 " Where do you come from," he next asked. 
 
 "Boston." 
 
 " Much used to manuscript ? " 
 
14 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, let me see," mused the editor, softly 
 tapping the desk with his pencil. " We are pretty 
 well pressed just at present, and could use another 
 man to advantage ; but we can't pay heavy, you 
 know." He looked up to the face of the youth 
 for a corroboration of this view of the situation. 
 
 " I suppose not," the stranger was so kind as to 
 say. "I don't seek for large pay. I am willing 
 to work for small wages ; but I must have work," 
 he added in a tone of desperation. " I have got 
 no money ; and, if I don't get something to do, I 
 shall kill myself." 
 
 "I hope it ain't so bad as that," hastily rejoined 
 Editor Griggs, looking intently at the sallow face. 
 " How much wages do you want ? " 
 
 " I don't want to set the price, sir. I am will- 
 ing to work faithfully, and I am sure you will be 
 satisfied with me. I thought, that, if you were 
 willing, 1 might stay with you a week, in which 
 time you could see what I can do, and could tell 
 what I would be worth to you in case you wanted 
 me longer." 
 
 "Well, that's fair enough," candidly conceded 
 Mr. Griggs. " You can come on in the morning, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Where are you staying in town ? " 
 
 " Nowhere, as yet. I came right here from the 
 depot." 
 
 Editor Griggs turned his eyes toward the tall, 
 slim man, who was all attention, and called, 
 
THE NEW JOURNEYMAN. 1 5 
 
 " Ez ! " 
 
 The tall, slim man came over at once. 
 
 " Ez, this is a young man from Boston, a type- 
 setter, who is going to help us out for a few days. 
 By the way, your name ? " 
 
 "Redner." 
 
 "Ah, yes ! Well, Mr. Redner, this is Mr. Phil- 
 lips, the foreman of ' The Gazette.' " It is not to 
 be denied that Mr. Griggs said this with consider- 
 able unction. It is not every country printing- 
 office that has a foreman. 
 
 Mr. Redner extended his hand, which Mr. 
 Phillips accepted with the awkwardness peculiar 
 to the blending of dignity with bashfulness. 
 
 Ezekiah Phillips was not as old as his employer ; 
 but he appeared older. His eyes were large, but 
 receding; his nose, large and progressive. It 
 was a fully developed Roman nose, and gave to 
 the rest of the face especially when the owner 
 was in a confidential mood, either from liquor or 
 circumstances a preternaturally solemn air. Mr. 
 Phillips was both positive and wavering, both 
 shrewd and credulous. When under the mellow- 
 ing influences of alcohol, he was both combative 
 and apologetic, and would give way to either a 
 flood of tears or a torrent of profanity with equal 
 facility ; and would blend pathos and ferocity in a 
 remarkable manner, throwing over all a solemnity 
 most profound. Besides being a good workman, 
 Mr. Phillips had a strong bass voice, which was 
 utilized to great advantage in the choir of the 
 
1 6 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Gallowhill Congregational Church at two Sunday 
 services. 
 
 "Ez," said Editor Griggs, "Mr. Redner has 
 just come to Gallowhill, and has no place to stay, 
 of course. Don't you suppose he could be accom- 
 modated at Quimby's ? " 
 
 Quimby's was the boarding-house patronized by 
 Mr. Phillips. He had no doubt it could be done ; 
 whereupon Mr. Griggs turned over the new-comer 
 to the care of his foreman, and resumed his work. 
 
 It was an extremely embarrassing position for 
 Mr. Phillips. He never more fully felt his awk- 
 wardness. He stared at the stranger until the 
 stranger looked up at him, and then he removed 
 his eyes with a jerk. As speedily as possible he 
 worked him over to the case, where, surrounded 
 by the type and sticks, he found inspiration in the 
 implements of his trade, and in a short time 
 possessed himself of much information in regard 
 to the recruit, and had struck up quite an ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 Mr. Griggs worked away very industriously for 
 a half-hour longer ; then he put on his cuffs and 
 coat, straightened his hair, replaced his pipe with 
 a cigar, donned his hat, and hurried away with a 
 sigh of relief. 
 
THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT. 1 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT. 
 
 EDITOR GRIGGS walked rapidly after leaving the 
 office of "The Gazette." The air was keen and 
 crisp, and the hard-beaten snow creaked beneath 
 his step. The stores were still in a blaze of light, 
 and the walk was full of hurrying pedestrians, for 
 it was yet early ; but the editor paid no attention 
 to any one or any thing. He hastened on, his 
 eyes full of glad anticipation, and his cheeks aglow 
 from the same emotion. At almost every stride 
 he quickened his pace, and seemed to be trying to 
 avoid recognition. On a street off from the main 
 thoroughfare, he turned into the yard of a small, 
 unpretentious house ; ran up on the side-porch ; 
 opened its door, through whose curtained sash a 
 light shone ; and stepped into the sitting-room of 
 the place, and almost directly into the arms of a 
 young woman. 
 
 "O Tom!" she cried, as she clasped him 
 around the neck, " what makes you so late ? " 
 
 "I couldn't help it, Annie/' he said, as he 
 
1 8 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 turned a remarkably pretty face upward, and 
 buried its lips in his mustache. "There was a 
 chap came in to get a ' sit,' " he added, on resur- 
 recting the lips, "and that kept me. And, by 
 George ! what a start he gave me ! I thought he 
 was a poet." 
 
 His voice sobered down so suddenly upon the 
 utterance of this foreboding, that the young girl 
 laughed outright. It was such a cheery, happy 
 laugh, and showed to such advantage the tempting 
 mouth that gave it voice, that the sexton was again 
 pressed into service. 
 
 " O Tom ! what a pest you are ! " she cried, as 
 soon as she was able. " I believe you will smother 
 me some day." 
 
 As he turned the face up, so that his eyes and 
 the light fell upon it, he looked very much as if he 
 were two-thirds inclined to commit the awful deed 
 on the spot. It was a bright, loving face ; and, as 
 Tom Griggs looked down upon it, he felt his heart 
 swell with pride. 
 
 " Pet," he earnestly exclaimed, " you are the 
 handsomest darling in all the world." 
 
 "Am I, Tom ? " she whispered softly, her cheeks 
 flushing with pleasure. 
 
 "Are you? Why, you know you are." 
 
 " I know I am to you, Tom ; and that is 
 enough." Then she drew the plump arms closer 
 about his neck, and nestled her face on his shoul- 
 der. 
 
 The black hair, smooth and lustrous, was so 
 
THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT. 19 
 
 beautiful in his eyes, that he passed his hand over 
 it again and again ; and, while he did so, he softly 
 whispered, 
 
 " My darling, my darling ! " 
 
 And, under the caress and the whisper, the girl's 
 heart swelled with pride, and her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 Happy woman ! with his strong arm about her, 
 his hand's touch thrilling her, his intense nature 
 loving her, and his manly voice calling her the 
 dearest names. 
 
 Happy man ! with her woman's heart all his, the 
 loving arms tight about him, the beautiful face 
 radiant with love to him. It was all his, the 
 handsome features, the glossy hair, the shapely 
 form, all, all his. What a blessed inspiration it 
 was to him ! How his heart filled, his eyes bright- 
 ened, his soul thrilled, under the impulse of the 
 thought ! 
 
 "Ah, Tom Griggs ! " he involuntarily exclaimed, 
 " if ever there was a fortunate man in all God's 
 earth, you are the one." 
 
 The form in his arms quivered in an ecstasy of 
 delight at this passionate utterance. 
 
 " My darling ! " she murmured, nestling still 
 closer to him. 
 
 . And Tom held her tight in both arms now, and 
 kissed the beautiful hair, and forgot that he was 
 the editor of a country newspaper, with the publi- 
 cation day close at hand. No other thought came 
 into his mind but that of her; and no other 
 
20 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 thought, had he his way, should ever find entrance 
 within the portals of his soul. He was not wea- 
 ried to stand there: it was 'no burden to sustain 
 her. Looking down upon the shapely head, feel- 
 ing her faithful heart throbbing against his own, 
 he fell to questioning whether it was not his duty 
 to yield up his life at once in an ecstasy of de- 
 light as a sort of imperfect thank-offering. 
 
 "O Annie ! " he cried, "if I never need go away 
 from you again ! " 
 
 " I know it, Tom," she murmured. "You come 
 to me every night now ; but yet the time between 
 seems so long. Only a little while, and then we 
 shall never be separated." She said this in her 
 patient, hopeful, woman's way. 
 
 It did not seem possible that he could draw her 
 any closer to himself than she was already ; but he 
 did. 
 
 " Why, Tom," she cried, as soon as she could 
 catch her breath, " you will surely kill me." 
 
 If pressure would kill, she certainly stood in 
 imminent danger of passing hence under that 
 process ; and there is no telling what might have 
 been the result had not a step sounded on the 
 porch. The door opened almost immediately, and 
 a young girl entered the room. As quick as the 
 lovers were in the movement produced by this 
 entrance, they were not quick enough to blind her 
 eyes to the probabilities. 
 
 " Why, Tom," she exclaimed, with a smile and a 
 glance at both, " how long have you been here ? " 
 
THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT. 21 
 
 It was noticeable of her face that the smile 
 came suddenly, lighted her features in a flash, and 
 then went again, leaving no trace of its presence. 
 It was a grave, serious ^face in repose ; but the 
 smile made it radiant. 
 
 "About a minute," said the young man in an- 
 swer, striving, in the rectitude of his nature, to be 
 quite exact. 
 
 "Where's mother, Annie?" she asked of her 
 sister. 
 
 "She's over to Quimby's. Mrs. Quimby has 
 got a sore throat or something." 
 
 The young girl passed into another room to 
 remove her wraps, an opportunity Mr. Griggs 
 promptly economized by a use of the sexton. 
 
 " O Tom ! " laughingly protested his betrothed. 
 
 The young girl, returning to the sitting-room, 
 drew a rocker to the stove, and, seating herself, 
 placed her feet to warm them, and rested her 
 cheek on her hand. In this position she looked 
 at the fire as if in a dream. It was a very serious 
 face, a tenderly sad face. She was not as hand- 
 some as her sister. Her features lacked the regu- 
 larity and the full rich color ; but their expression 
 was so fraught with tenderness as to redeem the 
 plainness. Perhaps this expression was but a 
 reflection of her eyes. Soul-eyes they co.uld be 
 called, so full were they of light, dark, deep 
 blue eyes, luminous with purity. Not five out of 
 every one hundred persons claiming blue eyes 
 really possess them. There are but two positive 
 
22 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 colors in eyes, black and blue. The brown eye 
 is but an unsuccessful attempt to be black ; the 
 gray eye is a futile endeavor to be blue ; the hazel 
 eye is an unhappy reach after both. 
 
 "Where have you been, Lucy?" asked Tom, 
 after a few minutes' silence. 
 
 " I have been to the post-office. Did you come 
 direct here from your office ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It is odd I didn't see you," she said. 
 
 It may have been strange that she did not see 
 him on the way, but not at all strange that he 
 didn't see her. It is more than likely that he 
 would have climbed directly over her, without so 
 much as noticing her presence, in his eagerness to 
 reach her sister. However, he did not say so. 
 
 Shortly after, Lucy retired to the kitchen fire, 
 and the lovers were left to themselves. 
 
 Tom Griggs was coming every night to the 
 Bayard mansion. He and Annie were betrothed, 
 and in a few long (as contemplated) weeks they 
 were to be married. So Tom came every night ; 
 and, often as it was, it was scarcely often enough. 
 The days were long and tedious to both of them ; 
 and they were mostly consumed, we fear, in an- 
 ticipating and longing for the night. To these 
 two devoted souls the day which was to unite 
 them forever in this life was most eagerly yearned 
 after. If Editor Griggs, in his capacity as pub- 
 lisher, had been deputed to bring out an almanac, 
 it is reasonable to suppose that the volume would 
 
THE EDITOR IN AN UNOFFICIAL LIGHT. 2$ 
 
 be chiefly noted for the brevity of its contents 
 before his wedding-clay, and for their abundance 
 ever after. Fortunately for the interests of the 
 world at large, he was not-thus deputed. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard had returned from a survey and a 
 diagnosis of Mrs. Quimby's throat; Mr. Bayard 
 had got back from, and lost all consciousness of, 
 the church business-meeting ; and Lucy had merged 
 her waking dream into that of sleep, when Tom 
 Griggs' sexton had performed the last office for 
 the night. 
 
 If our editor failed to hear the town-clock strike 
 one, it was directly owing to his not getting out- 
 doors in time. As he hurried along the deserted 
 streets, he gave utterance to a sentiment having 
 such a familiar sound as to seem almost like an 
 echo from all the generations gone before, 
 
 "What a donkey I was to stay so late! Here 
 I've got to be up early in the morning, with a hard 
 day's work before me, and I will feel like a fool to 
 do it." 
 
 There are re-actions. 
 
24 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 
 
 THE articles pertaining to Mr. Phillips' trade 
 gave him confidence in himself. Being surrounded 
 by objects familiar develops our self-reliance. They 
 make ourselves seem more, and strangers less. A 
 village young man, dressed in swell attire by the 
 home tailor, passes through the familiar streets 
 and by the familiar objects with a consciousness 
 of his excellent appearance that he cannot help 
 feeling. It is born of the circumstances. The 
 garments fit him to a nicety. They cause him to 
 be lifted up ; they exalt him. There is nothing 
 to depress the bump of self-esteem : on the con- 
 trary, there is every thing to develop it, and round 
 it into a symmetrical sphere. He feels that he is 
 "the observed of all observers." He experiences 
 no embarrassment. He moves gracefully. Going 
 into the city, he encounters a radical change. It 
 amazes and depresses him. His clothes appear 
 common ; the fit execrable. Nobody gives them 
 admiring attention. He feels awkward, out of 
 place, uncomfortable. He is ill at ease, and is 
 confident everybody is aware of it. He thought 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 25 
 
 to mix with the city, and be of the city ; but now 
 he is as thoroughly known to be from the country 
 as if he were placarded as such by a responsible 
 house. It is a disheartening experience, but valu- 
 able if rightly heeded. 
 
 With the smell of the type and the ink ascending 
 his nostrils, and the various articles of his trade 
 filling his sight, Mr. Phillips immediately " felt at 
 home," a phrase expressing ease of manner. 
 In a brief time he had satisfactorily explored the 
 antecedents of Redner, and possessed himself of 
 much valuable information. It was very comfort- 
 ing information, too, in that it showed him that 
 the fund of printing knowledge carried around by 
 the stranger was not sufficient to excite an alarm 
 in his own breast of being superseded. The fore- 
 man of a country printing-office is a susceptible 
 being, of strikingly apprehensive tendencies. 
 
 In return for the information extracted from the 
 new journeyman, Mr. Phillips acquainted him with 
 various essential facts, including the circulation of 
 " The Gazette ; " the length of time he had been 
 there ; his ability as a printer ; Mr. Griggs' de- 
 pendence upon him ; the uplifted condition of the 
 entire office now, as compared to what it was when 
 he took charge ; with a summary of the demands 
 of the trade, and the inability of other printers, 
 with scarcely an exception, to cope with them. 
 
 Having contributed -these well-digested bits of 
 information for the edification of his companion, 
 he said that they might as well be getting toward 
 
26 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Quimby's, which the other favoring, they departed. 
 On their way through the main street, Mr. Phillips 
 kindly pointed out the various business-places, 
 tersely indicating their standing by the degree of 
 their advertising. The parties who did not adver- 
 tise at all, he properly ignored. He pointed out 
 the post-office, the banks, two new buildings, the 
 place where there had been a fire four months be- 
 fore, "an old he-one," to use Mr. Phillips's chaste 
 imagery, and other objects of absorbing interest. 
 Before one building, larger than the others, he 
 suddenly stopped. 
 
 "This is the hotel," he explained. "Do you 
 ever take any thing ? " There was a shade of 
 anxiety in his voice. 
 
 His companion said he did not. 
 
 "I'm not in favor of drinking myself," hastily 
 confessed Mr. Phillips (people who drink rarely 
 are) ; "but once in a while I believe a little liquor 
 does a man good, especially after he's been to work 
 as I have to-day. They've got the best cider- 
 brandy here you ever set your eyes on." 
 
 Mr. Phillips, having delivered this bit of sugges- 
 tive information, looked anxiously into the face of 
 his companion. 
 
 " I don't think I want any to-night, thank you," 
 said the young man. " Can you get pie there ? " 
 
 "Pie? Oh, yes!" 
 
 "Well, I'll take a piece of pie, then," ventured 
 the young man. * 
 
 This offer struck Mr. Phillips so favorably, that 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 27 
 
 he at once fell in with it ; and, stepping into the bar 
 of the building, he ordered a glass of cider-brandy 
 for himself, and a quarter of pie for the other, and 
 then, with a nod to the stranger, and the intelli- 
 gible and complimentary observation, "Here's to 
 you ! " decorously tipped the contents of the glass 
 down his throat. Having thus strengthened him- 
 self, and provided for the future welfare of his 
 new acquaintance, he paid for the articles, and 
 they returned to the street. 
 
 " I can tell you, Redner, that's the stuff ! " he 
 confidentially observed, as they moved along. " If 
 a man never drank any thing but liquor like that, 
 there would be mighty few drunkards, I can tell 
 you." This statement struck Mr. Phillips so fa- 
 vorably, that he repeated it twice with unction. 
 Then he branched off on other topics, which, 
 being taken on a cider-brandy basis, were handled 
 most elaborately. 
 
 Proceeding through a side-street, Mr. Phillips 
 pointed to a house across the way, and said, 
 
 " Griggs' girl lives there." 
 
 "Is that so?" said Redner. "Is she hand- 
 some?" 
 
 " She's a buster," pronounced Mr. Phillips with 
 great feeling. 
 
 His companion looked puzzled. 
 
 "She can just lap over any girl in these parts, 
 and don't you forget it," said Mr. Phillips strongly. 
 "I have seen women in my time, lots of 'em; 
 but I never saw the woman that could hold a 
 
28 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 candle to her. When you lay your eyes on her" 
 (here Mr. Phillips took Redner impressively by 
 the arm), "it will rest 'em." 
 
 " Then she is very handsome ? " said the other 
 in a tone of deep interest. 
 
 "You can bet your bottom dollar on it," af- 
 firmed Mr. Phillips. "You ought to see her 
 eyes By Judas ! if she ain't got the blackest 
 eyes you ever saw ! Not hard black eyes, you 
 know, but a kind of a soft black, as if they were 
 going to melt, and run all over her." Mr. Phillips 
 sighed heavily at this reflection ; but whether from 
 a vividness of the delicious picture he had con- 
 jured up, or from a contemplation of the waste 
 suggested in the running over, he did not explain. 
 
 " You were saying " put in Redner with 
 heightened interest. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " continued Mr. Phillips. " But 
 there's no use trying to do justice to that girl's 
 eyes. When she puts 'em on you, you feel just 
 like crawling under the mud out of sight. It 
 makes a man think he is less than nothing, and 
 willing to swear to it. And then her cheeks ! 
 oh, my ! " Mr. Phillips smacked his lips, and smote 
 his hands in an ecstasy of feeling. 
 
 "Are they rosy?" interrupted Redner. 
 
 "Rosy!" exclaimed Mr. Phillips in some dis- 
 dain. " Humph ! That ain't no name for it. 
 There's not another such a pair of cheeks in all 
 Gallowhill. They make me think of a water- 
 melon every time I see 'em. T> 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 29 
 
 His companion looked aghast. But Mr. Phillips 
 did not notice it. He said, 
 
 " You have seen these awful dead-ripe water-mel- 
 ons, ain't you, that are so red that they look white 
 a sort of powdered white on the edges?" 
 
 Redner nodded. 
 
 "Well, her cheeks are just like that." Mr. 
 Phillips sighed again, and looked a shade more 
 solemn than before. At this juncture he turned 
 into a gateway, observing, 
 
 "This is Quimby's." 
 
 Without the ceremony of knocking, he passed 
 into the house ; and, leaving Redner in a small 
 sitting-room, he went in search of Mrs. Quimby. 
 In a moment or so he returned, accompanied by a 
 heavily built lady with a very red face, and a throat 
 swathed in flannel. A delicate odor of arnica 
 hovered about her. Mr. Phillips, introduced her 
 as Mrs. Quimby. She told Redner, in a slightly 
 masculine voice, that he was welcome, and said he 
 must pardon her appearance, as she was suffering 
 from an attack of sore throat. 
 
 "It's an old enemy of mine, and gives me a 
 sight of trouble," she explained. "I do every 
 thing for it, and try every thing, and have had the 
 doctors fuss with it ; but nothing does any good. 
 It is there ; an' it's likely it'll stay there as long as 
 I'm alive. No one can tell what I suffer from it ; 
 for I don't believe in making a great hue-an'-cry 
 over myself. But, if ninety -nine out of a hundred 
 women had my complaint, they'd never think of 
 
30 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 getting out of bed. But I keep up an' moving 
 around. It's only my ambition that keeps me up, 
 though. If it wa'n't for that, I'd go down in a 
 heap many a time. But what's the use of giving 
 up, an' going to bed ? It's all folly. People say 
 to me, ' Why, Mrs. Quimby, how do you keep up 
 so ? I should think you'd be abed a-doctorin' your- 
 self/ says they. ' But what's the use ? ' I tell 'em. 
 'If I went to bed, I'd just tumble around, an' think 
 of the work ; an' it wouldn't do me a bit of good.' 
 No, indeed : work it off, is my motto ; an' work it 
 off I do. No one hears me complain ; for I don't 
 believe in whining an' grumbling : they never did 
 any good ; they only make things worse. No one 
 hears me doing it : do they, Mr. Phillips ? " 
 
 Mr. Phillips started like one suddenly awakened 
 from a drowse, and unhappily said, " Yes, indeed ! " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Phillips! when do I ever com- 
 plain ? " demanded the amazed and grieved lady. 
 
 Mr. Phillips, being now thoroughly awake, 
 hastily explained that he was so engrossed in 
 thinking of a programme in two colors which he 
 had to get out the next day, that he was afraid he 
 might not have perfectly heard her question. 
 Mrs. Quimby repeated it. Then Mr. Phillips 
 promptly said, 
 
 " I guess you don't." 
 
 This point being satisfactorily settled, and it 
 further transpiring, as admitted by himself, that 
 Mr. Redner never had had any throat - trouble, 
 the terms of board were agreed upon. Mrs. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 31 
 
 Quimby was sorry she could not give him a room 
 to himself at present ; and he would have to share 
 Mr. Phillips' room, which?- that gentleman kindly 
 offered, and which, having 1 a fire, would be, on the 
 whole, quite as agreeable. The new boarder being 
 satisfied with this arrangement, he was escorted 
 by Mr. Phillips to the room. 
 
 It was a very good-sized apartment, and con- 
 tained, in addition to a bed, a cot, which Mr. 
 Phillips indicated to his company that he was to 
 occupy. He further showed him the closet for his 
 clothes, the wash-stand, &c., and> then withdrew 
 for^ a few minutes. During his absence Redner 
 unpacked his valise, and arranged his articles of 
 apparel for the occupancy of the room. Several 
 volumes of novels and a story-paper were among 
 his effects. Of these he appeared to be very 
 choice ; and, after he got through with the valise, 
 he took a seat by the fire, opened the paper, and 
 became at once absorbed in its contents. When 
 Mr. Phillips returned, he found him thus engaged. 
 
 "What's that you're reading? " 
 
 "A story. Do you ever read romances, Mr. 
 Phillips ? " 
 
 " Not many. When I was a boy I didn't do 
 much of -any thing else ; but I don't have time for 
 that business now." 
 
 " How old is Annie Bayard ? " 
 
 "About twenty, I should say," replied Mr. Phil- 
 lips, taking off his coat and hat, and drawing a 
 chair up to the fire. "By jinks! this is comfort/ 
 
32 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 ain't it ? " he added, with an air of satisfaction, as 
 he spread his palms to the heat. 
 
 " Yes : it is cosey," indorsed Redner. ". How 
 long has Mr. Griggs kept company with Miss 
 Bayard ? " 
 
 " About a year, I think, though it may be 
 longer. It's curious what a difference there is 
 sometimes in people in one family. Annie has 
 got a sister that don't look any more like her than 
 than " Here Mr. Phillips looked around in 
 some desperation for an object of comparison. 
 " Well, than I do," he finally gasped. 
 
 His companion at once judged there were points 
 of difference between the two sisters that could 
 not very well be ignored. 
 
 " Is she much older ? " he asked. 
 
 " No : she ain't so old by a year or thereabouts. 
 I shouldn't think Lucy was much over eighteen." 
 
 " What kind of a young lady is she ? " 
 
 "She's a mouse." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" hastily de- 
 manded Redner. 
 
 "Why, that she's so quiet. You know they 
 say, * quiet as a mouse/ although I can't say that / 
 ever noticed any thing particularly quiet about a 
 mouse. She's the stillest girl I ever saw. She 
 don't go into company much, and is rather pious. 
 Do you ever go around among women much ? " 
 
 " Some." 
 
 Mr. Phillips was silent a moment, watching the 
 smoke from his pipe. Then fte bent his eyes 
 earnestly on Redner, and asked, 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 33 
 
 " Were you ever in love ? " 
 
 "I? No." 
 
 " Don't you like womertat all ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes ! I am a great admirer of ladies. But 
 I am not in love with any particular one." 
 
 "Don't you think," asked Mr. Phillips, after 
 another pause, " that woman is a flattener ? " 
 
 "A flattener?" repeated Redner, opening his 
 eyes in astonishment. 
 
 "Why, yes; that is, don't you think she is a 
 knock-over sort of thing?" 
 
 The young man's face not expressing a clear 
 comprehension of this, Mr. Phillips was obliged to 
 be more exact. 
 
 "What I mean is, that she's a settler, kinder 
 knocks the life out of you, you know." 
 
 Redner was obliged to confess that he had never 
 felt compelled to view the sex in that light. 
 
 " But it is so," affirmed Mr. Phillips gloomily ; 
 "and, when you've had experience with 'em, you 
 will know it for a fact. I have been there, and I 
 know. I might have been married twice over 
 before now, if it wa'n't for that." At this juncture 
 Mr. Phillips fell back on the pipe, smoking rapidly. 
 
 " You have been in love, then ? " Redner ven- 
 tured to inquire, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " I suppose it can be called that," whiffed Mr. 
 Phillips. 
 
 " Was the lady was the lady averse to the 
 offer?" 
 
 It was a delicate question, and hesitatingly 
 propounded. 
 
34 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 " I never found out," gloomily replied Mr. Phil- 
 lips. 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 "Because woman is a flattener," was the short 
 reply. 
 
 "I am afraid I do not understand you," said 
 Redner. 
 
 " It is easy enough to understand if you had 
 been there," answered Mr. Phillips, refilling his 
 pipe. " A woman is all right when looked at, like 
 a jack-knife or a saw-mill or a panorama ; but when 
 you get fastened to her, when you get all twisted 
 up in her, when your heart and mind is all in a 
 condemned tangle and snarl, then she is an 
 altogether different object; then she becomes a 
 flattener, a keel-overer. When you go to say any 
 thing to her, you can't do it ; and, for all you know 
 about what's what, you might as well be standing 
 on your muddled head in the middle of Patagonia. 
 Yes, sir, I might have been married twice over, if 
 it wa'n't for that ; but my blamed stomach comes 
 back on me every time." Mr. Phillips' face had 
 been lowering all the while he was speaking, and 
 at this juncture the ferocity of its expression was 
 really alarming. "Yes, sir, every time," he con- 
 tinued, smiting his knee. "I get along all right 
 until I come to the sticking-point, and then I 
 flop ker-chunk. My blamed stomach comes back 
 on me, and I fizzle out like a busted bladder." 
 The foreman of " The Gazette " pulled vigorously 
 at his pipe for a moment. " I have such a sinking 
 
MR. PHILLIPS BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL. 35 
 
 right here," placing his hand on his abdomen, and 
 sighing solemnly, "as if my palate, loaded with 
 old iron, had dropped there. I can't tell how it is ; 
 but there is such an awful goneness right in the 
 pit of my stomach, that it takes away my breath 
 as clean as if it was whipped out of me by the 
 kick of a mule." 
 
 After this explanation, Mr. Phillips moodily 
 pulled away at the pipe ; while his companion, 
 feeling perhaps that the sorrow was far beyond 
 the reach of sympathy, offered no comment. 
 
 It was some ten minutes before the silence was 
 broken. Mr. Phillips emptied his pipe, and an- 
 nounced he would go to bed, a purpose he imme- 
 diately put into execution. Redner also retired, 
 but not to sleep. He lay in his bed, looking at 
 the moving shadows as formed by the flickering 
 light from the stove, and pondering on woman as 
 revealed to him in the new and somewhat startling 
 character of "a flattener." 
 
36 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PUBLICATION DAY. 
 
 UNDER the convoy of the estimable Mr. Phillips, 
 the stranger reached the office of " The Gazette " 
 and the field of his labor shortly after seven 
 o'clock the next morning. The foreman, being 
 entirely free of all trace of the influence of flat- 
 tening, was wholly absorbed in the duties of the 
 day. He gave Redner a case, and piece of reprint 
 from a county paper for copy, and introduced him 
 to a middle-aged man, of consumptive aspect, who 
 had a case at his side. This party had a thin, 
 reddish beard, and a very white face, and looked 
 as if he had been composed of the ingredients of 
 a printing-office, so thoroughly did he seem to par- 
 take of the "nature of the metal and ink and oil 
 and paper around him. Redner saw that the other 
 employees were a young man of about his own 
 age, who appeared dissipated, and a boy of some 
 fifteen summers, who, early as it was in the day, 
 had got a pretty smart sprinkling of ink on his 
 hands and face. Redner noticed, that, whenever he 
 looked toward these two, they were in the very act 
 of taking their gaze from him. He did not know 
 
PUBLICATION DAY. 37 
 
 that they had heard already that he was from the 
 great city of Boston, or that a city youth pos- 
 sesses a peculiar charm Ux-a village youth. At his 
 case he could command a view of the door and the 
 sanctum. Mr. Griggs had jiot yet arrived ; but his 
 desk was not quite idle, as Mr. Phillips was fre- 
 quently there getting copy, and looking into letters 
 and other papers. All the proceedings of the busi- 
 ness had an attraction to Redner. It was his first 
 experience in a country printing-office. He was 
 surprised at the familiarity existing on the part of 
 the employees toward the foreman, which did 
 not appear to be heartily reciprocated by him. 
 Even the "devil" called him Ez. He noticed, also, 
 the familiarity of the employees with the office 
 itself and the office terms. So conspicuous was 
 this, that he could not help noticing it. In their 
 use of the terms, it was charming to note the care- 
 lessness of the utterance, as if these expressions 
 were common, every-day matters, and not brought 
 out for the occasion. Strangers visiting a printing- 
 office are startled by the flippancy with which the 
 "hell-box" is referred to, the "devil" inquired 
 after, and the "dead" disposed of. There is that 
 to knowledge which makes it a delight to air itself, 
 unless there is a great deal of it. 
 
 In addition to all, it seemed to fall upon the 
 sandy-bearded man to be captious, the youth of 
 twenty to be indifferent, and the boy with the 
 inked features to be impudent ; and on all a spirit 
 of remark upon contributors and advertisers that 
 
3 8 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 was certainly conspicuous for breadth and freedom. 
 The dissipated youth and the " devil " said "naw" 
 when answering in the negative, and " damn " fre- 
 quently, and were much addicted to a short, scorn- 
 ful laugh. All their profanity, like their slang, 
 was delivered with a peculiar unction. These 
 two showed a disposition to appear ten years older 
 than they really were, and quite often made a 
 painful exhibition of the effort. Redner learned 
 that the sandy-whiskered man was named Hazel- 
 ton ; the dissipated youth, Joe Goodwin ; and the 
 boy, Henry Vanderlip, which name had been 
 happily brought down to " Lippy " by the office. 
 All smoked and chewed. 
 
 About eight o'clock Mr. Griggs appeared, and 
 briskly took position at the desk, although his 
 eyes had any thing but a wide-awake expression. 
 Ezekiah was immediately in consultation with 
 him, and frequently thereafter. These consulta- 
 tions appeared to consist, on the part of Mr. 
 Griggs, in assertion, and on the part of Mr. Phil- 
 lips in protestation, and referred mainly to an en- 
 deavor on the part of the former to squeeze two 
 columns of copy into one column of space. Mr. 
 Phillips acted as the representative of space, and 
 maintained a gallant, although not always success- 
 ful, fight in its behalf. Redner noticed, as the day 
 advanced, that Ezekiah became more wary, yet 
 agressive, while, Mr. Griggs grew correspondingly 
 timid and propitiatory, even handing out the copy 
 toward the last in an apologetic manner. The new 
 journeyman wondered very much at this. 
 
PUB LIC A TION DA Y. 39 
 
 Every few minutes through the day he saw the 
 door open, and some one appear. These em- 
 braced a variety of people. Early in the hour 
 they seemed to consist mostly of slim persons, 
 neatly dressed, and of a bustling air, who dealt 
 directly with the proprietor, and who appeared to 
 be advertisers, judging from their remarks. He 
 further noticed that those of this lot who came the 
 latest had the longest advertisements to insert, and 
 that their favors were not new notices, but changes 
 of those already in. These men had a great deal 
 to say, and appeared much surprised by what they 
 heard, and caused Mr. Griggs much anxiety. It 
 was also noticeable that the very prominent face 
 of Mr. Phillips gave increased evidence of disgust 
 at every one of these calls, and that it presented 
 to the occasionally appealing glances of Editor 
 Griggs a most uncompromising aspect. So greatly 
 were Mr. Phillips' feelings worked upon by these 
 advents, that every little while he would retire 
 behind one of the racks, and, after a profane tussle 
 with an imaginary adversary, would re-appear, ap- 
 parently very much strengthened thereby, and 
 more defiant than before. 
 
 Two or three of the visitors appeared to have so 
 little object, that their aimlessness was as much a 
 part of them as their clothes. They slouched in 
 hesitatingly, looked about furtively, dealt in forced 
 smiles, and suggested to Redner that they had 
 been created without special reference to their 
 use, but in the rather vague hope that they would 
 
40 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 some time prove available for " filling in." They 
 may have come in to learn if the paper was out, 
 as each one asked the question ; but, as they did 
 not go on being informed, that could not have 
 been the real object. They moved about the 
 room, looking at the forms ; standing by the com- 
 positors, with whom they seemed acquainted ; ask- 
 ing harmless questions ; picking up articles of the 
 trade, and closely scrutinizing them ; and picking 
 up newspapers or bills which they saw on the floor 
 or stands, and listlessly looking at them. Each 
 one of these staid an hour or so, got thoroughly 
 warmed, and as much in the way as possible, and 
 then drifted out doors. 
 
 Occasionally an elderly gentleman would come 
 in, and talcing out his glasses and wiping them, 
 and attending to his nose, and dusting off a chair, 
 would seat himself ; performing all these acts in a 
 methodical manner, that, while it was not exactly 
 exciting, certainly possessed a peculiar fascination 
 to the observer. On settling himself, and learning 
 that the paper was not printed, the elderly gentle- 
 man would peer anxiously among the exchanges ; 
 make a few suggestions of a valuable, but some- 
 what intricate, nature ; inquire who had written 
 some certain article that had appeared the week 
 before, if so-and-so had any thing in the coming 
 paper ; and then, removing his glasses and restor- 
 ing them, and again attending to his nose, would 
 say he didn't know what the poor were going to 
 do this winter ; and finally depart, leaving . the 
 door unlatched. 
 
PUB LIC A TION DAY. 41 
 
 By far the largest number of visitors as to class 
 were those who came merely to inquire if the 
 paper was out. Redner was surprised at the size 
 of this multitude ; and ha'd he not had a verbal 
 statement of the circulation of " The Gazette," and 
 the pile of paper ready for the press before him, 
 would have readily believed that the number of 
 copies printed was fully eight times greater than 
 it really was. There was considerable variety to 
 this number, both in their appearance and conduct. 
 The greater part were horny-handed and heavily 
 bearded men, who were muffled heavily about the 
 neck, and stepped heavily. They evidently lived in 
 the outer districts, and would like to take the pa- 
 per home with them ; they appeared somewhat 
 disappointed in not finding the paper ready, and 
 seemed inclined to stand by the stove, and stare 
 about the room, but particularly at the type- 
 setters. Of the others, many made comments of 
 a derogatory or facetious or sarcastic nature, cal- 
 culated to reflect on the character of the office in 
 the matter of promptness. 
 
 There was another lot, who appeared to have 
 something they wanted published in the present 
 issue ; and Editor Griggs was obliged to devote 
 one-third of his time in expostulating with, or ex- 
 plaining to, or smoothing down, these clients. 
 
 Redner noticed, that, as the hours advanced, his 
 enfployer's nervousness increased ; that his face 
 became flushed, his movements jerky and uncer- 
 tain, and his tones peevish. In the proof-reading 
 
42 MR. PHILLIPS^ GONENESS. 
 
 he would frequently launch an execration at the 
 head of one of the compositors, and the victim 
 would respond in an injured tone that was audible, 
 and in another tone that was not so. 
 
 Mr. Phillips himself was not less affected than 
 his superior. His temper, which was none too 
 good at the start, had become so sore and inflamed 
 as to fill Redner with the liveliest apprehension of 
 the result. He appeared to look upon every vis- 
 itor who gave any indication of having manuscript 
 on his person as an unprincipled scoundrel, who 
 was working in an underhand way for the destruc- 
 tion of the establishment, and felt it to be his 
 sacred duty to scowl at him with a degree of fe- 
 rocity that was beyond describing. 
 
 At the last hour, nearly all the spare space of 
 the office was filled with anxious persons, who 
 watched every movement with so much intentness 
 as to be very gratifying to the bustling Mr. Phil- 
 lips, who, having the forms of the paper so far 
 advanced as to effectually shut out the introduc- 
 tion of more copy, was relieved of a great incubus, 
 and had only to take care of and exhibit the dig- 
 nity of his position to the best advantage. It was 
 really a delight to watch him, observing the swift- 
 ness of his movements, and the splurge of his 
 manner; while to see him cuff the "devil" on the 
 side of the head, or fling a quoin which either 
 did not fit or was broken across the room, was 
 a most enjoyable sensation. 
 
 Finally, the forms were made ready, and put on 
 
PUBLICATION DAY. 43 
 
 the press ; the " devil " took his place at the distribu- 
 tor ; and the press started. As fast as copies were 
 turned out, the waiting readers seized them, until 
 all were supplied. Redner was directed to fold, in 
 which occupation he had the improving com- 
 panionship of the dissipated youth. Occasionally 
 the dissipated youth would relieve Mr. Phillips at 
 the press. It was nearly ten o'clock at night 
 when the last paper was worked off, and the "devil " 
 was then in a state of ink, from his heel to his 
 crown, that was simply amazing. 
 
 Mr. Griggs had gone away at nine o'clock, " to 
 Bayard's," Mr. Phillips whispered ; and the hands 
 were left to attend to the papers that were to go 
 by mail the next morning. At eleven o'clock 
 Redner and the foreman started home ; the latter 
 stopping at the hotel to " brace up," and the former 
 taking a piece of pie, of which he appeared to be 
 quite fond. Before midnight the young man was 
 abed, and dreaming that a roll of manuscript had 
 come into the office of "The Gazette," and that 
 Mr. Phillips had brained it with the shooting-stick 
 at the very threshold of the door. 
 
44 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 THE new journeyman, on the following evening, 
 finding a discussion on liquor-drinking between 
 Mr. Quimby and Mr. Phillips did not interest him, 
 left those two worthies thus engaged in the little 
 back sitting-room of his boarding-house, and took 
 a stroll through the village, to make himself ac- 
 quainted with some of its features. It was a 
 clear, bright night ; and Redner, walking through 
 the crisp air, divided his time on Main Street be- 
 tween the stars and the ladies he chanced to 
 encounter. He walked leisurely, the restless ex- 
 pression of his eyes somewhat modified. He fol- 
 lowed Main Street nearly the length of its busi- 
 ness-section, but showed little or no interest in 
 the stores. Many of them had dingy fronts, of 
 small glass, dimly lighted by kerosene-lamps ; as 
 gas in Gallowhill was five dollars a thousand, and 
 the country merchants found it necessary to econo- 
 mize. But, listlessly as he moved, he could not 
 avoid noticing that the fronts of the hardware- 
 stores showed less light than any of the others, 
 and that the inside of the doors was hung with 
 
AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 45 
 
 whips and sleigh-bells and chains. Beyond this he 
 showed no interest in the^places of business, but 
 walked along, looking intently into the faces of 
 the females he met. Crossing a street that inter- 
 sected Main Street, he heard a church-bell ring. 
 He looked up the street whence the sound came, 
 but saw no light to indicate the presence of the 
 building. For a moment he paused irresolutely, 
 as if debating a point, and then he abruptly turned 
 in an opposite direction. The starlight and the 
 snowlight showed him that he was on a street of 
 private houses, with capacious front-yards, darkened 
 by sombre evergreens. He walked in this direc- 
 tion for some little distance, but, encountering 
 nobody, turned about, and retraced his way. On 
 returning to Main Street, he recalled the tolling 
 bell, and, after a moment's pause, went up the 
 street leading to it. 
 
 A moment of quick stepping brought him to the 
 church. There was an open door leading into the 
 porch of the basement. He went in there, and 
 listened a moment to the sounds coming from the 
 room beyond. Some one was either talking or 
 praying. As the voice ceased, he passed into the 
 room, and found himself in a prayer-meeting. 
 
 There was rro difficulty in securing a seat. A 
 very fair-sized battalion of troops could have been 
 accommodated without seriously crowding the con- 
 gregation. It was not a particularly attractive 
 room, although Redner's restless eyes kept upon 
 the people, and failed to notice this. The ceiling 
 
46 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 was low, and the. plaster cracked and stained. 
 The walls were relieved here and there from the 
 monotony of color by a biblical' map or a scriptu- 
 ral text, the nature of which showed that the 
 apartment was used for Sunday-school purposes 
 also. The floor was covered with well-worn mat- 
 ting ; the sittings were settees without cushions ; 
 a large stove stood in the middle of the room ; a 
 dozen or so of posts sustained the floor above, and 
 served to screen as many timid brethren from 
 range of the leader's vision. This person was a 
 short, stout man, with a sandy beard, light-colored 
 eyes, and a very austere shirt-collar. His chair 
 was on a raised platform, back of a small table. 
 The room was capable of seating three hundred 
 persons. About one-tenth of that number were 
 present. A majority of these were females, and 
 the greater part of all were of middle age and 
 beyond. There were three little folks present, 
 two girls and a boy. The little girls were very 
 prim ; and the little boy appeared to be nearly, if 
 not wholly, petrified. The room was scarcely more 
 sombre than the people, and each seemed to be in 
 keeping with the other. It was the temple of the 
 Lord of the universe > and these were his people 
 come to rejoice and be glad in his presence, with- 
 out doubt. 
 
 Nearly every eye was turned on Redner when 
 he entered, and many glances were cast toward 
 him during the service. As he took a seat, the 
 leader gave out a hymn. It was a heavy hymn 
 
AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 47 
 
 with a heavy air, and seemed to require that the 
 voices should get way down under it to lift it up, 
 and set it going all right. After this labor was 
 performed, and the gloom of the apartment ap- 
 peared to densify under its pulsation, the leader 
 observed, with fixed solemnity, 
 
 " We have come together, brethren and sisters, 
 for the purpose of conference and prayer. This is 
 one of the most blessed privileges vouchsafed us 
 in our religious life; and we should come with our 
 offerings, rejoicing that we have the opportunity 
 to contribute in so good a cause. I hope to-night 
 that there will be no delays, but that each one 
 will be ready with a word of testimony for the 
 Lord, taking up his cross promptly and cheerfully, 
 and so making it an active, pleasant, and profitable 
 service. Don't let there be any waiting one for 
 another, but all pray or speak as they see fit." 
 
 There was an oppressive pause of a full mo- 
 ment's duration after this, during which the leader 
 looked stonily ahead, as if he had fully discharged 
 his duty in the matter, and was relieved of all 
 responsibility for the consequences. And then 
 he said, "Brother Mercer, will you lead us in 
 prayer?" 
 
 In response to this request, a large man with 
 very little hair on his head laboriously rose, 
 clasped his hands reverently across his stomach, 
 and, closing his eyes heavily, proceeded, in a se- 
 pulchral voice, to spread out his views before the 
 Almighty. The voice being not at all natural, 
 
48 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 although adapted, without doubt, to a public 
 prayer, required considerable effort to keep it up 
 to the mark. For five minutes he rumbled on, 
 growing more grandly elaborate in the progress, 
 and finally rounded off with a sonorous "Amen." 
 
 Another pause followed, in which Brother Mer- 
 cer mopped off the top of his head, and looked 
 around upon the stolid faces about him as if to 
 say, " I think that covered the ground in a very 
 handsome manner." 
 
 "Don't let the time go to waste, brethren," 
 urged the leader, looking over the congregation 
 so briskly as to cause the brethren back of the 
 posts to contract themselves to a degree that was 
 painful. 
 
 Another large man rose. The parties back of 
 the posts sighed and expanded. The large man 
 cleared his throat, an act imposed by his stand- 
 ing up, undoubtedly, and, looking fixedly over 
 the heads of the assembly, sternly observed, 
 
 "Brethren and sisters, it is a blessed privilege 
 to stand up and testify for the Master. [Throat] 
 He has done every thing for us. [Throat.] And 
 we should be willing to do every thing for him. 
 [Throat.] To speak for him, and to tell the joy 
 [throat] we feel in serving him, is a duty we owe 
 him. [Throat.] This is a service, a blessed ser- 
 vice, that none of us should try to shirk. [Throat.] 
 As for myself, I feel that the Lord has been very 
 good to me. [Throat.] And I want to serve him 
 better than I do. [Throat.] We all make crooked 
 
AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 49 
 
 paths for our feet, and wander away [throat] from 
 the strait and narrow path, which is not right." 
 [Three throats.] 
 
 This encouraging summary of the general spirit- 
 ual condition emboldened a tall, thin man, with 
 whiskers under his chin, to get up, and heartily in- 
 dorse the sentiment by cheerfully announcing, 
 
 " I don't feel as if I am in the right way, breth- 
 ren and sisters. I do, as the brother has said, 
 make many crooked paths for my feet, and wander 
 in by a"nd forbidden ways. I am growing cold and 
 indifferent ; but, if I know my own heart, I know 
 that I want to be a better Christian : I want to be 
 willing to take up my cross in these meetings, and 
 testify of His goodness to me. It is a joy to tell 
 of Jesus' wonderful goodness. Let us all take up 
 our cross, and be more active. Pray for me, breth- 
 ren and sisters, that I may be more faithful." 
 
 He sat down with a sigh, and an oppressive 
 pause followed. 
 
 " Now, let's hear from another," said the leader 
 briskly. " I know it is a hard cross to get up and 
 speak a word for our Saviour ; but, if we are de- 
 termined to do it, we will find the effort to be 
 easier and easier. Let us sing one verse of ' Am 
 I a Soldier of the Cross ? ' and then let some one 
 follow right after in prayer or exhortation." 
 
 The verse was sung with due solemnity, and 
 another painful pause succeeded, causing the zeal- 
 ous disciples back of the posts to contract within 
 their respective spheres as much as possible. 
 
50 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 " Don't let the time go to waste," besought the 
 leader. 
 
 An old man rose. 
 
 " I don't want to take up valuable time, and de- 
 prive others of speaking," was his ghastly an- 
 nouncement ; " but I am always glad to have an 
 opportunity to speak a word for my Saviour. I 
 have been forty years in this service, and I find 
 it is a blessed service to engage in. I have 
 done many things in that time which I hadn't 
 oughter done, and I have left undone many things 
 that I had oughter done. I hope none of you 
 won't take me for an example of what to do, but 
 do your full duty at all times and everywhere. 
 There's nothing like living close up to the mark 
 in the Christian life. The flesh is weak, as we've 
 been told ; but we have One which can help us, 
 who has been tried as we are, and knows just 
 what we want, and will give it to us if we will only 
 go to Him, and ask Him to help us. Let us try to 
 be more faithful, brethren and sisters ; let us try 
 to work more in His vineyard. The work is easy, 
 and the pay is sure. Pray for me, that I may ever 
 be found faithful and willing to take up my cross." 
 
 After him and another very oppressive pause, in 
 which the disciples back of the posts threatened 
 to shrink into mere wads of cloth, a thin young 
 man laboriously observed, 
 
 " I love Jesus, and want to take up my cross, and 
 follow him. If there is any one here who hasn't 
 come to Christ, I would say, Come to-night, and 
 take up your cross, and follow him." 
 
AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 51 
 
 Then he sat down ; and the leader, after a 
 moment's waiting, asked, -^- 
 
 " Isn't there another that has got one word to 
 speak for the Saviour. He bore the cross for us. 
 Can we not bear the cross for him ? Just one 
 word." Here his eyes roamed over the audience, 
 to the great discomfort of some, without doubt. 
 "Brother Reynolds," he pleasantly called, as his 
 glance rested upon a sandy-haired man, and a 
 winning smile illuminated his face, " shall we not 
 have a word from you this evening ? " 
 
 Brother Reynolds's very white face became very 
 red as this mark of distinction smote him. He 
 struggled to his feet, and clung convulsively to the 
 back of the seat in front of him, 
 
 "I I I am glad of the oppor opportunity 
 to take up my cross," he gratefully gasped, " and 
 and and I hope I you I may be found 
 on the-e-e-e side" Here his voice nearly died 
 away ; but by a powerful effort he dove down, and 
 brought it up : " Pray for me that I may be al- 
 ways that I may take up my cross. And " 
 He paused, with a gurgling noise in his throat, 
 as if catching after his treacherous breath. " Pray 
 for me," he despairingly gasped, "that I may take 
 up my cross." At this juncture his voice fell 
 through again, and he straightway plunged after 
 it, half secured it, lost it, and dropped heavily into 
 his seat ; and immediately drew out a large hand- 
 kerchief, with which he mopped great drops of 
 perspiration from his face. 
 
52 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Another verse was sung at the request of the 
 leader. 
 
 "The time is arrived for closing," he said; "but 
 there may be some one who would like to speak a 
 word, and we will wait a moment longer. I do 
 not want to deprive any one of the opportunity of 
 bearing the cross. It is blessed duty, brethren 
 and sisters. Is there not another ? We will wait 
 a minute." 
 
 He paused, and looked inquiringly around the 
 room. 
 
 There was the rustle of a dress, and a young 
 woman rose. She had her back toward Redner, 
 so he could not see her face ; but her form was 
 graceful, and the mass of hair that fell from be- 
 neath the fleecy hood she wore was very beauti- 
 ful. The expression of lassitude that had settled 
 upon his countenance gave way immediately to a 
 look of lively interest, and he opened his ears to 
 hear what she would say. Her voice was low, but 
 distinct and musical. 
 
 "I do not feel as if I can go from here," she 
 said, "without saying something for my dear 
 Saviour. His precious love has filled my heart all 
 this day ; and I feel so happy in him, far happier 
 than I can tell. I thank him that he loves me, 
 that he cares for me so constantly ; but I thank 
 him above all for his precious nearness to me in 
 every hour of my life. Prayer is dear to me, and. 
 his word is a sweet comfort to me. I can say with 
 
AT THE PRAYER-MEETING. 53 
 
 all my heart, * The Lord is~my shepherd ; ' and, as I 
 say it, I know that ' I shal-l not want.' ' 
 
 That was all she said ; but it interested Redner 
 more than all the rest had said put together, and 
 the room itself seemed to grow brighter as she 
 said it. 
 
 Another hymn was sung, and the audience then 
 dismissed. As Redner stood in his place to wait 
 for her to pass out, he saw his employer in the 
 doorway ; and, as his glance fell on him, he ob- 
 served his eyes light up, and saw him step quickly 
 into the room, his face in a glow of delight, and 
 become almost immediately blended with a happy- 
 faced girl, whose own eyes fairly danced with glad 
 expectation. Happy Tom Griggs ! How his face 
 shone ! Redner could see him quiver all over as 
 his hands tenderly adjusted her furs ; and the 
 beautiful face that was turned to his was but a 
 reflex of his own happiness. The new journey- 
 man watched them walk away, saw her snug so 
 tightly up to him, saw him bend so lovingly over 
 her, and then he knew that this was Anna 
 Bayard. 
 
 When he had recovered himself, the girl whose 
 words had so deeply impressed him was passing. 
 In the same instant their eyes met. His gaze was 
 bent on her with such fervency, that her eyes 
 dropped at once, and her face flushed. She passed 
 out of the building with an elderly man and 
 woman, whom Redner surmised to be her parents. 
 He immediately followed after them through sev- 
 
54 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 eral streets, until he saw them disappear within a 
 house ; and standing opposite, and looking hard at 
 the premises, he recollected that it was the house 
 that Phillips had pointed out to him the night of 
 his arrival as the home of the Bayards. 
 
THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE. 
 
 IT was two o'clock A.M., as usual, when Tom 
 Griggs got away from the Bayard mansion the 
 night of the prayer-meeting. 
 
 "It does beat the devil" (the "devil" is the 
 youngest apprentice in a printing-office), he mused 
 to himself, as he hastened through the deserted 
 streets, "that I haven't got the strength of mind to 
 leave at a decent hour. Here it is near morning, 
 and I out of bed, and a hard day's work before 
 me ! I'll feel like a fool in tjie morning, and it 
 will be like pulling teeth to get me up. But what 
 am I to do?" he added despairingly. "I swear 
 every time I leave that the next night I will go 
 home at ten o'clock ; but, when ten o'clock comes, 
 it seems as if I had only been there a minute, and 
 I cant go away. Dear, precious Anna! God bless 
 you ! In a few days I shall have you always to 
 myself, and then there will be no separating at 
 night." He had lapsed into a slow pace as these 
 softening thoughts came to him ; but,- suddenly 
 rousing himself, he started rapidly forward. 
 " There's no use talking ! I must get away earlier 
 
56 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 than this. It won't do : the loss of sleep is killing 
 me and my darling." How quickly the deter- 
 mined expression on his face melted away as he 
 pronounced the loving title! "God bless her!" 
 he softly murmured. " It won't be long now, and 
 afterward we can rest out. I can't go earlier, 
 there's so much to talk about ; and she is so terri- 
 bly dear to me. Would to heaven I never had to 
 leave her for a single moment!" 
 
 Tom Griggs' face was less earnest than his legs 
 as he hurried on. He entered his home, found 
 the light as left for him by his thoughtful mother ; 
 and, after a call at the pantry, he retired to the icy 
 embrace of his couc'h, to fight the chill, and to 
 dream of Anna Bayard and the grand future open- 
 ing its endless avenue of joy before them. 
 
 It didn't seem as if he had been fifteen minutes 
 in bed scarcely long enough to get to sleep, at 
 any rate when he was called to breakfast, and 
 awoke to see the daylight filling his room. 
 
 It was a hard day's work that Tom had before 
 him, and he was sorely tempted to murmur against 
 the fate which doomed him to labor for his daily 
 bread. He shivered as he hurried through the 
 streets ; and, when he reached the office, it was pat- 
 ent to the "devil" even that he had been up late. 
 With all the discomfort of his indiscretion upon 
 him, the editor of "The Gazette" declared over 
 and over again that he would be more moderate 
 the next time ; and we are charitable enough to 
 believe he meant it. 
 
THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE. 57 
 
 But, when Tom Griggs' day's work was done, 
 the impatience he displayed in eating his supper, 
 which, it must be said, however inelegant it may 
 sound, he fairly bolted, and in getting his Sun- 
 day suit on, boded no good to the new resolve. He 
 even cursed the hard-trodden snow on the walks, 
 whose smooth surface prevented his feet from 
 keeping pace with his desires, as he hastened on 
 his way to the home of the Bayards. Nearly fif- 
 teen hours had passed since he had seen her. It 
 was such a dreary, long time. It was like coming 
 into sight of land after weeks of tempestuous 
 ocean-voyaging, to come in sight of her home. He 
 blessed the white paint and the green blinds, and 
 the dead honeysuckle-vine swaying from the pillars 
 of the porch. He called the house the casket 
 which contained his jewel ; and to him there was 
 no fairy palace to equal it in magnificence. Fortu- 
 nately he was not in quest of real estate, or he 
 would have beggared himself and his friends to 
 have obtained the location. The cosey sitting-room 
 was just as we saw it on the first evening we fol- 
 lowed Tom to the side of his promised bride. 
 Anna was there, radiant with a welcoming smile. 
 The rest of the family were in the dining-room, as 
 indicated by the sound of the voices. What a 
 sacred place was that dining-room to Tom Griggs ! 
 Several times he had taken tea there, and twice on 
 Sundays (memorable occasions !) he had eaten 
 dinner therein. 
 
 There is a desire born in the heart of every 
 
58 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 young man to see her who is dearer than life to 
 him eat. There is nothing unworthy in this. It 
 is not to measure her capacity, or to observe how 
 graceful she is at such a time. But it gives him a 
 nearness to her that is not otherwise obtained. It 
 is typical of their own home : it is the foreshadow- 
 ing of the time when they shall be independent of 
 all others, and be left to lean alone upon each 
 other. It made Tom Griggs feel as if he and 
 Anna were really a part of each other. 
 
 Tom was very happy as he took her lovingly 
 into his arms ; and he felt so thoroughly wide 
 awake and fresh, that it would be a sin to doubt 
 his ability to sit up all night if an emergency 
 should require, not a very large emergency, 
 either. 
 
 And the c^ear girl who rested so fondly and 
 contentedly upon his breast forgot, that she had 
 devoted the greater part of the day to keeping her 
 eyes open, even with the encouragement of see- 
 ing stitch after stitch forming order out of chaos 
 in a pile of fabrics before her. 
 
 This very same pile of sewing, the editor of 
 "The Gazette" saw at the machine; and, while a 
 roguish light played in his eyes, he gravely in- 
 quired, 
 
 " What's here, Anna ? " and made as if he would 
 thoroughly investigate. 
 
 " Now, Tom, don't tease ! " she cried, endeavor- 
 ing to hold him back, and blushing and laughing 
 in a most tantalizing way. 
 
THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE. 59 
 
 It must have been an .'inspiration that seized 
 him, he took her up so suddenly and impetuously 
 in his arms, and held her so tightly. 
 
 " O Tom ! " she gasped as soon as he freed her, 
 " don't you know that the folks will hear you ? " 
 
 "I don't care if they do/' he boldly asserted. 
 " Don't you suppose I've got the right to squeeze 
 you, you beautiful witch ? " And, before the un- 
 fortunate girl could save herself, he had her again 
 in his impetuous embrace. 
 
 " Oo-oo ! doon't doo-ent ! " she gasped. " O 
 Tom!" after she got her breath, "I won't have a 
 lung to breathe with." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the young man in great 
 surprise. " Do you call that squeezing ? Wait 
 till we are married, darling, and then you will call 
 this child's play. I'll have you all to myself then, 
 and there won't be any one around to interfere." 
 
 " I won't live with you then. I'll get a divorce, 
 and come back home," she retorted laughingly, 
 while her eyes shone with the love that filled her 
 life. 
 
 He was going to make another pass for her, 
 when her father appeared ; and her lover's face 
 assumed immediately an expression of such pro- 
 found gravity, that the happy girl laughed outright. 
 
 " Good-evening, Mr. Bayard," said Tom. 
 
 "Good-evening, Tom," responded that gentle- 
 man, looking inquiringly at his daughter. " How's 
 the weather out ? " 
 
 Had the old gentleman devoted three entire 
 
60 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 days to the construction of a most intricate prob- 
 lem, he could not have more completely floored 
 Tom than by this simple inquiry. In his haste to 
 reach his Anna, the young man had taken no note 
 of the weather, and for the life of him could give 
 no reliable data. 
 
 " Pretty cold, ain't it ? " added the old gentle- 
 man helpfully. 
 
 "A regular freezer," promptly responded Tom, 
 clutching at the suggestion, and rubbing his hands 
 vigorously at the stove in emphasis thereof. 
 
 " Any news ? " 
 
 " Not much. Pretty dry." 
 
 " How's business ? " 
 
 " Good. / have got nothing to complain of." 
 
 " I'm glad of that. And you're fortunate ; for 
 the times are mighty hard." The old gentleman 
 poked at the stove after saying this ; and the result 
 of the move being summed up in the expression, 
 " I guess your fire needs more coal, Anna," he left 
 the room to get it. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard and Lucy now came in ; and the 
 latter and Anna took up their sewing, while the 
 old lady settled herself comfortably in a chair by 
 the stove. She was a nice-looking old lady of 
 portly build ; but there was no resemblance of the 
 daughters to either her or the father, which is not 
 an unusual occurrence. Tom Griggs often studied 
 her face, with a view to find some feature thereof 
 to correspond with the beautiful countenance of 
 his darling ; but he never succeeded. He would 
 
THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE. 61 
 
 try to picture her as a girl, but always failed. 
 The full and somewhat flarid face, the gray hair, 
 and the wrinkles were insurmountable barriers. 
 He could not separate them from her, even with 
 an imagination editorially trained ; and so he could 
 not clothe her with youth. Odd queries often 
 came into his mind when contemplating her. 
 Was it possible she was ever young ? What was 
 there about her that attracted her husband ? Did 
 she love him as Anna loved ? Did he love her as 
 Anna was loved ? Did she use to lie in his arms ? 
 Did she use to watch anxiously for him ? Did he 
 call her " darling " ? Were they ever different from 
 what they were now ? Were they ever any thing 
 but prosy and commonplace ? They could not 
 have been. If so, they would not be prosy and 
 commonplace now. These queries and specula- 
 tions never led to any thing but the most hopeless 
 chaos in Tom's mind ; and he found it was as diffi- 
 cult to clothe the couple with sentiment as with 
 youth, and he would give up the struggle in de- 
 spair, only to return to it again at the first oppor- 
 tunity. If they were not prosy and commonplace 
 in their courting-days, how could they be so now ? 
 He was quite confident it must have been a very 
 dreary courtship. 
 
 Perhaps it was. 
 
 She called him Bayard, and he called her "old 
 lady." There was certainly not much romance 
 about that. 
 
 Again thrown in his mental wrestle with the 
 
62 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 old enemy, Tom thanked his stars for the brighter 
 future before him, and turned his eyes upon the 
 dear girl. As his glance fell from the shapely 
 head to the lithe fingers plying the needle, he 'felt 
 that his cup of happiness was full to the brim. 
 Was there ever a woman so beautiful as she ? 
 Was it a real, actual fact, that she was his pledged 
 bride, and would in a few days be his own dear 
 wife? Tom's heart swelled to such a degree 
 under the inspiration of this thought as to make 
 his vest feel a trifle uncomfortable. And every 
 little while the beautiful face would be lifted, 
 and the grand eyes beam full of love upon him. 
 Happy Tom Griggs ! 
 
 And yet there was a shadow upon his joy. 
 Tom loved the nimble fingers so dearly, that he 
 could not bear to have them tasked with sewing. 
 If he were only rich ! At any rate he would work 
 hard himself, so hard that she should never have 
 any thing to do. The dear face should never look 
 tired after they were married, and the delicate 
 hands never be marred by labor. When they 
 were in their own home, he would take care of all 
 that. There was a pleasure in thinking of it. It 
 mattered not for himself. He could work himself 
 to death, if necessary, to save her, the precious 
 darling ! 
 
 Foolish fellow! There were tears in his eyes 
 as this thought came to him. 
 
 It was then Anna looked up again. She saw 
 the tears, and a startled look flashed into her face. 
 
THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY FUTURE, 63 
 
 But she saw also the light' of a yearning devotion 
 back of the glistening drops, and she knew it was 
 his intense love for her that brought them ; and 
 she dropped her eyes again, while the look of joy 
 in her face intensified. Mr. Bayard returned with 
 the coal, with which he mended the fire, after con- 
 vincing his wife that he was not desperately bent 
 on mussing the carpet. Then he went back to 
 the dining-room to smoke his pipe, and presently 
 Mrs. Bayard followed him, to look after household 
 duties. Lucy stitched on in silence. Tom no- 
 ticed that she was very quiet, even for her; but, 
 as it did not concern him, he made no comment. 
 
 "Tom, who was that young fellow that stood 
 near the church-door as we were coming out last 
 night ? " asked Anna. 
 
 " What young fellow ? " 
 
 " Why, didn't you see him ? I don't see how 
 you could help it. He was a stranger, and wore 
 his hair rather long, and had on a cloak, and 
 looked really romantic." 
 
 " Oh, him ! That was Redner." 
 
 " Redner ! " exclaimed Anna, looking up to her 
 lover, " who's Redner ? " 
 
 " He's the chap from Boston I hired Monday 
 night," explained Tom. " Don't you know I told 
 you of him when I came, how he had detained 
 me, and how I took him to be a poet ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Anna. And the subject dropped. 
 
 Soon after this, Lucy retired. When she was 
 gone, Anna looked up, and lovingly whispered, 
 
64 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 " Come over here, Tom.'* 
 
 An entirely needless request ; for, with that 
 promptness peculiar to a wide-awake journalist, he 
 was already on his way there. 
 
 It was surprising how close he could get to her 
 without pushing her completely over. 
 
 "When will you be through, darling?" he 
 asked, casting an unfriendly glance at the pile of 
 sewing. 
 
 " In a little while. You know it must be done, 
 Tom," she said, blushing as she looked up to 
 him. 
 
 " I suppose it must," he reluctantly concurred ; 
 "but I want you to myself." 
 
 She stitched on a moment in silence. "Tom," 
 she softly spoke, "why were there tears in your 
 eyes a little while ago ? " 
 
 He did not answer, and she raised her eyes to 
 his face, the eyes so full of intense love for 
 him. 
 
 " Why was it, darling ? " 
 
 " I cannot help it, pet ; but, when I saw you at 
 work, I wished that you might never have to do a 
 single thing, and it made me feel badly to know 
 that you were obliged to do this." 
 
 "But, Tom, work cannot hurt me." The idea 
 that he thought it might filled her with joy. 
 What a tender, thoughtful lover he was ! 
 
 " But it hurts me to know you have to do it," 
 he said. " When we are married, you will not have 
 to slave at sewing ; and I will work hard to get 
 
THE PICTURE OF *4 HAPPY FUTURE. 65 
 
 money, that you may not have to lift your hand to 
 do a stroke." 
 
 " But, Tom, why should you work, and I not do 
 any thing? Do you suppose I could rest with my 
 hands folded while you were toiling day after 
 day?" 
 
 " It matters not how hard I have to work, if you 
 are saved." 
 
 " Don't it, Tom ? " she whispered softly, pushing 
 the hair slowly back from his forehead gently and 
 lovingly ; while he looked into the beautiful, earnest 
 face, and felt how easy it would be to die, if neces- 
 sary, for her dear sake. 
 
 "It is only two weeks now, Tom." He knew 
 she referred to the wedding-day. 
 
 " Yes, ^only two weeks. I wish it was to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " Do you, Tom ? " she lovingly murmured, and 
 then laid the beautiful head on his shoulder. " We 
 will be so happy then in our own home. It will 
 be such a pretty home : won't it, Tom ? " 
 
 "Yes, darling." 
 
 " There are so many unhappy homes, Tom. I 
 don't see how married people can live so. I be- 
 lieve it must be the woman's fault. If the wife 
 tried to make the home pleasant, and kept herself 
 neatly dressed, and had every thing in order, and 
 didn't let the work drag, I knoiv there would be a 
 difference. Don't you think there would, Tom ? " 
 
 Tom knew very well that love was the great 
 incentive to domestic effort, and that these women 
 
66 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 were not Annas, and that they could not, in con' 
 sequence, very well do otherwise than they did ; 
 but he did not say so. It was a matter entirely 
 outside of his future, and so it did not interest 
 him. It was pleasant to have-her lie in his arms, 
 and to hear her talk ; and so he kissed her lovingly, 
 and simply said, "^es, dear one." 
 
 " O Tom ! it is so delightful to think of our 
 home ! " she exclaimed. " It will be small, of 
 course ; but then it shall be a perfect gem of com- 
 fort and happiness. We will have pretty furni- 
 ture, in bright colors, real bright, and some 
 pictures, and the cunningest kitchen. And, when 
 you are at the office, I will be to work in our home, 
 making it bright and cheerful for you when you 
 come home. I will have the table ready set, and 
 myself dressed ; and then I will go out to the gate, 
 and stand there, and watch for you until you come. 
 O Tom ! won't it be so grand ? " She lifted her 
 head from its support, and . clapped the pretty 
 hands in an ecstasy of delight, while her eyes 
 shone with the pleasurable emotions the picture 
 created. 
 
 " My darling ! " was all he said ; but the intensity 
 of the utterance spoke volumes. He drew her 
 tighter to his breast, too full of joy himself to 
 speak a word. 
 
 "And, Tom," she went on, "I'll be so proud to 
 bring you into the dining-room, and show you the 
 table. I know just how I will have it arranged." 
 
 " Do you, pet ? " 
 
THE PICTURE OF ''A HAPPY FUTURE. 67 
 
 "Yes, Tom. I think, there is a great deal in 
 the way a table is set. Some tables look as if the 
 things were just thrown on to them ; and some 
 don't look as if there was any thing on at all, and 
 look so bare and bleak that I wonder how a man 
 can have the patience to stand it. I want our 
 table to have a snowy white cloth, and cut glass, 
 and nice stone china for breakfast and dinner, and 
 real china for tea ; and napkins with holders ; and 
 silver spoons and forks ; and I will Crochet pretty 
 mats for the vegetable dishes and tea and coffee 
 pot ; and we will want a silver sugar-spoon and 
 a silver butter-knife ; and then O Tom ! " she 
 cried, springing erect again in the excitement of 
 the anticipation, "won't it be perfectly grand?" 
 
 He caught her to his breast, and bent silently 
 over the flushed, happy face. Something touched 
 her cheek. 
 
 " O Tom ! are you crying ? " was her startled 
 whisper. 
 
 " It is all so bright, so beautiful, dear one ! " he 
 said in a broken voice. 
 
 She made no reply ; but she put both of her 
 arms tightly about his neck, and her cheeks grew 
 wet with her own tears. 
 
 Happy, happy lovers ! oblivious to all the rest 
 of the world, unconscious even of time. 
 
 It was the striking of the clock that aroused 
 them. 
 
 " Why, Tom ! that is one o'clock ! " 
 
 By a gigantic effort he wrenched himself from the 
 
68 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 dream, and came down upon reality on both feet 
 with a force that jarred his entire system, got his 
 hat, gave her a final embrace and a shower of 
 kisses, and then went out into the chilling night- 
 air to wrestle with the frost and an aggressive 
 conscience. 
 
DOCKEKTY. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DOCKERTY. 
 
 IT was the Sunday- morning service at the 
 church Mrs. Quimby attended. We say Mrs. 
 Quimby, because her lord rarely graced the struc- 
 ture with his presence. He was a member ; but it 
 was so long since his conversion, that its signifi- 
 cance was about obliterated. Then it always 
 happened, singularly enough, that there was some- 
 thing to do about the house, something to look 
 after out of the house, or something out of the 
 way with his health or the weather, when the 
 church was holding service. To a close observer 
 it looked very much as if the church was in this 
 manner robbing Mr. Quimby of valuable opportu- 
 nities to develop his spiritual strength. 
 
 At any rate, it was evident that he had been 
 robbed. 
 
 A peculiarity of Mr. Quimby's case was the fact, 
 that, while these circumstances appeared to be all- 
 powerful, yet there was a season in nearly every 
 year during which they were utterly powerless to 
 prevail over him. This season was the revival 
 period. During the progress of a revival, the 
 
70 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 church graciously permitted Mr. Quimby to rise 
 superior to every ordinary circumstance, as well 
 as .a number that were extraordinary. He grew 
 with the revival. As it progressed, he advanced 
 in zeal. He also declined with it. 
 
 Mr. Quimby was in the closest sympathy with 
 a revival. Scarcely a prayer-meeting would he 
 miss, although one was held every evening in the 
 week. When a man gets up at an unusual early 
 hour of a summer morning, he is apt to lose pa- 
 tience with those people who will persist in lying 
 abed. So Mr. Quimby, in his faithful attendance 
 upon the revival services, lost patience with those 
 church-members who were not equally faithful, 
 even in so great a degree as to become sore vexed 
 with them. 
 
 So, too, Mrs. Quimby, whom a state of chronic 
 illness prevented from venturing out in the night- 
 air when there was no excitement in Zion, was 
 faithful in her attendance upon the every-night 
 meetings that were now in progress. And the 
 excellent lady, being surcharged with the grace 
 which had silently accumulated in the other por- 
 tions of the year, supplemented her faith by her 
 works in earnestly exhorting all about her to " get 
 religion." 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Quimby were absent this 
 Sunday morning; and their pew was equally 'divid- 
 ed between Dockerty and a strange lady whom 
 the sexton had seated therein, or, as Dockerty ex- 
 pressed it on getting home, "had run in," an 
 act he indignantly resented. 
 
DOCKERTY. 71 
 
 Dockerty, by the way, was the only son of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Quimby, also their only child. Chrono- 
 logically he was aged eight years : in the develop- 
 ment of mental perception and in the matter of 
 human experience, he was somewhat older. Dock- 
 erty had appeared in this world several years after 
 the immediate friends of his parents had given up 
 his coming at all, and there had been no second 
 edition. 
 
 At the time of his birth, on the very day in fact, 
 an aged maiden lady came into possession, by pur- 
 chase, of the property whereon Mrs. Quimby sus- 
 tained the lives of her family and some dozen 
 boarders. The new purchaser lived in the neigh- 
 borhood, owned several buildings, which she rent- 
 ed ; and having no apparent avocation, or trouble 
 in paying her bills, was naturally enough reputed 
 to be enormously wealthy. The name of this el- 
 derly lady was Dockerty, Miss Anabel Dockerty. 
 
 It was rather remarkable that she should be- 
 come possessed of the house on the very day that 
 the Quimbys became possessed of their heir. 
 Mrs. Quimby, who was of a religious turn, could 
 not fail of seeing the hand of Providence in this, 
 pointing unmistakably to the naming of the child. 
 It was an indication that to her amounted to the 
 importance of a command, and she hastened to 
 obey. The boy was called Dockerty Quimby, 
 and very frequently called by the first half of 
 the name in clear, resonant, tones, from the front- 
 stoop of the house, whenever he was needed from 
 the street. 
 
72 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 It might be mentioned, incidentally, that Miss 
 Dockerty lived just across the way. 
 
 To his mother Dockerty was the chief hope of 
 life. To his father he presented a most intricate 
 problem. To both he was a good-sized handful. 
 
 On this sabbath morning, Dockerty, with his 
 hair clipped so short as to show quite an expanse 
 of scalp, and his face shining with an almost un- 
 earthly lustre, sat on the seat of the pew, with one 
 leg under him, and in a position to bring his profile 
 in view of the choir, and to enable his eyes to 
 take in, in turn, the profile of the lady who had 
 the honor of sharing the pew with him. For some 
 five minutes Dockerty occupied himself in con- 
 templating her, looking carefully first over her 
 apparel, and then concentrating his gaze upon her 
 face. Without even so much as the quiver of an 
 eyelid, he engaged in this survey, and then sud- 
 denly, as if violently struck with the recurrence of 
 an idea, he unfolded his under leg, dove his hand 
 into his breeches-pocket, and immediately brought 
 forth an object that completely engrossed his at- 
 tention. For a moment he remained in rapt con- 
 templation of it ; and then he held it up between 
 his thumb and forefinger, so as to get the very 
 best light possible upon it. It also happened, un- 
 designedly without doubt, that in this position it 
 became plain to the view of all the congrega- 
 tion sitting back of him. 
 
 It was a five-cent coin (a new one at that), and 
 it glistened in the light. For a moment or more 
 
DOCKE&TY. 73 
 
 Dockerty thus held it up, turning it from side to 
 side, and viewing it most intently. 
 
 Gradually a shadow fell upon his face. Slowly 
 it deepened, until his entire countenance was lost 
 in its depth. The hand with the coin was brought 
 back to his knee. There was a great trouble 
 on Dockerty's mind. That it was not caused 
 by the nickel, but came rather from reflections 
 in connection therewith, was evident from the 
 sorrowful fondness of the gaze he fixed upon it. 
 
 It was in a spirit of great irritation that he 
 mumbled to himself, 
 
 "I hates the heathen, I do. Heathen's hogs. 
 Whattuv I got to do with 'em? Whatsit to me 
 about heathen ? What righttuv they got to be 
 comin' aroun' an' scoopin' up my five cents ? " 
 
 Dockerty stared about him with a dreadfully 
 morose expression. His little face was as dark as 
 night. He fairly quivered under a powerful sense 
 of his wrongs, and his voice showed in its inten- 
 sity the depth of the outraged feelings it gave 
 utterance to. 
 
 " A new five cents too ! " It is utterly impos- 
 sible to convey to the reader a tithe of the anguish 
 imparted in this reflection. "A bran new five 
 cents, or I'm a sucker!" he explosively added. 
 "An' this to go to the heathen ! How them little 
 naked coots will grin an' kick up when they see it ! " 
 Dockerty groaned, and his body writhed as if hi 
 mortal agony. "They'll go off an' buy things 
 with it, an* stuff 'emselves till they're ready to 
 
74 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 bust. An* what's the good ? I'm a good mind ter 
 spend it myself; that's what I'm a good mind 
 ter do. I'm just as good as a heathen, if I do 
 wear clothes. But nobody gets pennies for me, an* 
 talks about me, an' makes pictures in books of me. 
 I won't stand this much longer, I can tell you. I 
 ain't agoin' to have my money scooped up like 
 this. Ain't I as good as a heathen, a little nasty 
 black thing, what takes all the boys' pennies for 
 candy, an' never has no worms ? Ugh ! " Dock- 
 erty, on making this ejaculation, scowled in such a 
 frightful manner, that the strange lady, happening 
 to observe him, was so worked upon, that she pre- 
 cipitately retired from the pew, and took one far 
 removed. 
 
 The young man watched this movement with an 
 expression of gloomy abstraction upon his face, 
 but made no comment. 
 
 " Ugh ! " he presently repeated. " Hot old hea- 
 thens them be, with their naked bodies, an' rings 
 in their noses ! Why don't they go to work, an' 
 earn their own pennies ? What do they keep 
 a comin' aroun' after mine for ? Darn 'em ! They 
 gets my pennies, an' then buys things for to stuff 
 'emselves with, an' goes aroun' jumpin' over hy- 
 drants, an' stonin' dogs an' hens, an' catchin' on 
 behind sleighs; an' I've got to be starched as stiff 
 as a poker, an' sit up here as straight as a stick, a- 
 lookin' at the minister. I'm a good mind ter be 
 a heathen myself, there's so much money in it." 
 
 He looked anxiously through the window upon 
 the wintry air, and sighed regretfully. 
 
DOCKE'RTY. 75 
 
 "If it wa'n't so cold, I'd just rip off my pants 
 this very minit, an scoot aroun' town like a house 
 afire." The sudden animation that lighted up his 
 face as suddenly died out, and he sighed again. 
 " What's the good if I did ? No one wouldn't 
 give me a cent. I ain't black, I ain't dirty, I ain't 
 far off ; I'm too close to town to be a heathen." 
 
 A rustle at the opening of the pew directed his 
 attention in that direction ; and he saw Lucy 
 Bayard enter, and seat herself. Dockerty's face 
 softened as her own sweet face brightened into 
 sudden sunshine in recognition of his glance. He 
 crept up to her side at once. 
 
 " Miss Bayard, do you see that ? " He held the 
 glittering coin up to her view. 
 
 " Yes, Dockerty," she whispered. 
 
 "That," he moaned, "is agoin' to the heathen." 
 
 " To the heathen ? " 
 
 "To the heathen," he despairingly uttered, "or 
 I'm a busted pickle-jar." 
 
 With this deplorable picture of his condition in 
 the event of the miscarriage of the coin, he sub- 
 sided into a long train of gloomy thought ; one 
 hand clinching the treasure, and the other me- 
 chanically engaged in rubbing the top of his head. 
 
 While Dockerty wrestled with his responsibility 
 to the heathen, a pair of very restless eyes, four 
 seats back, were roaming over the congregation. 
 The owner of the eyes was Mr. George Redner, 
 the new journeyman in "The Gazette" office. 
 Being a stranger, and somewhat out of the com- 
 
76 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 mon appearance of the Gallowhill young men, he 
 became an object of much attention to the very 
 young ladies in the choir at his back, and the 
 other very young ladies who rarely sit with their 
 parents, but appear to congregate by instinct in 
 the rear pews. To all these the young man had 
 a peculiar attraction; and, when his eyes swept 
 their vicinity, it was to be confronted by many 
 fully opened maiden orbs. 
 
 It was thus he was occupied when a figure 
 passed down the aisle, and so close to him that he 
 could have touched it where he sat. One glance 
 showed him that it was Lucy Bayard. 
 
 During the balance of the service, his whole 
 attention was concentrated on the Quimbys' pew. 
 Not a rustle of a ribbon, not a motion of her per- 
 son, escaped the eyes which had now lost their rest- 
 lessness, and were completely absorbed in the quiet 
 figure of the young girl. He envied Dockerty his 
 proximity to her, all unconscious of the brooding 
 misery that darkened that young man's heart, and 
 which made him entirely oblivious to the sweet 
 delight of his position so close to Lucy Bayard. 
 To Redner there was an approach to a halo about 
 the bristling hairs and the expanse of scalp. Dear 
 Dockerty ! What a nice boy he was ! What a 
 well-shaped head ! What intelligent ears ! Other 
 portions of his person were equally delightful to 
 the contemplation without doubt ; but the back of 
 the pew shut out, unfortunately, all but his head 
 and ears from Redner's enraptured view. 
 
DOCKERTY. 77 
 
 Lucy scarcely moved- during the delivery of the 
 sermon. Redner hoped that she would look 
 around that he might feast on a full view of her 
 face, or turn to Dockerty that he might lunch gen- 
 erously, as it were, on her profile ; but she did 
 neither. She was all absorbed in the discourse, 
 and never once removed her eyes from the speaker. 
 
 When the service closed, the young man lin- 
 gered long enough to have her step into the aisle, 
 and thus face him. Then their eyes met, and hers 
 dropped at once. He gave one all-intense glance 
 into the sweet face, and then hurried into the 
 porch, and out on the walk. Here he took place 
 with a crowd of young men, who were as much at 
 ease in front of the door as if they had been born 
 into that position, and who were contemplating 
 the outcoming people with devout attention, and 
 watched for her to appear. 
 
 In a moment or two she came down the stair to 
 the walk, and moved away to her home. He con- 
 centrated his gaze upon her with all-devouring in- 
 tensity ; but she did not look toward him again. 
 She passed on, and he followed after, keeping her 
 in range of his admiring vision until she reached 
 her door. And after that he passed the house 
 three or four times at a slow pace, with his gaze 
 lingering on the structure ; but he was not grati- 
 fied with another glimpse of her person. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AT TEA AT QUIMBY's. 
 
 REDNER was washing up for tea one evening, 
 when Mr. Phillips said to him, 
 
 " You want to slick up your very best to-night ; 
 for there's going to be company to supper.". 
 
 "Who's that?" asked Redner, towelling his 
 face. 
 
 " Lucy Bayard," said Phillips. 
 
 It was perhaps the friction of the towel that 
 made the young man's face look so red. 
 
 " How do you know ? " came from the folds of 
 that article. 
 
 " I see her downstairs when I came in." 
 
 " But she may not be going to stay here to tea." 
 
 "I guess there ain't any doubt of it," said 
 Phillips ; "for she's got her things off." 
 
 This settled it, of course, and nothing more was 
 said. But Redner was full fifteen minutes in 
 arranging his hair, and adjusting his necktie. He 
 followed Phillips downstairs in a state of great 
 anxiety. 
 
 The Quimbys and their boarders were at the 
 table, and with her back to him, as he entered the 
 
AT TEA AT QUIMBY'S. 79 
 
 door, sat Lucy. He did not need to see her face 
 to tell him that it was she. The shapely head, the 
 graceful shoulders, the mass of richly colored hair 
 lying in massive braid adown her back, revealed to 
 him in a flash her presence. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby had left a seat between Lucy and 
 herself, and nodded to Redner to take it. We are 
 not quite sure that Mrs. Quimby was a schemer, 
 at least, any more so than a married woman of 
 her years is expected to be. It was apparent to 
 her, as well as to another, that* both were young, 
 and that both were unmarried. From this knowl- 
 edge she had instinctively worked herself into the 
 belief that both must some time look matrimony 
 square in the face. So she seated them as she did, 
 and had them both under her matronly survey, 
 and was quite pleased thereat. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby presented him to her. The beau- 
 tiful smile flashed up, and illuminated the grave 
 face, as she acknowledged the ceremony, and went 
 out as quickly as it came, leaving her cheeks 
 flushed as if from the light of its glory, and her 
 eyes bent down upon her plate. 
 
 As was hinted in the preceding chapter, there 
 was considerable of an awakening in the church 
 where the Quimbys worshipped. Under the im- 
 pulse of the movement, Mr. and Mrs. Quimby were 
 shining conspicuously, having thrown aside their 
 candle, and rented an entire calcium-light. This 
 was particularly so with the excellent landlady, 
 about whose presence the odor of sanctity was 
 
80 - MR. PHILLIPS^ GONENESS. 
 
 excelled only by that of arnica. Her zeal was 
 admirable. There was, she contended, a time for 
 all things. The time for levity, for idleness, for 
 vanity, had gone by. It was now time to look 
 after the solemn interests of the soul. Mrs. 
 Quimby's mind was firmly held in the clamps of 
 this conviction. She wanted everybody to get reli- 
 gion. She urged them with indescribable pathos 
 to lay hold of it. She overflowed with zeal. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby was on the popular current, with 
 sails full set ; and she floated majestically onward, 
 one of the proudest vessels afloat, although not 
 a vessel of wrath, as she looked at the matter. 
 To her religion was a choice tidbit, something 
 like a new piece of furniture, or a late style in hat, 
 or a very pretty design in dress-goods, the enjoy- 
 ment of whose possession consisted mainly in 
 having other people know she had it. The subject 
 was largely treated of at this tea, as it was, for the 
 matter of that, at all teas during the white heat of 
 the interest. With the day ended and the family 
 gathered about the table, the freedom from toil 
 and the thought thereof made it a specially favor- 
 able opportunity for the presentment of a serious 
 subject. To Mrs. Quimby it was a particularly 
 felicitous occasion for airing her piety. And on 
 this, as on all other occasions, she was ably assisted 
 by a tall, spare young lady, who delved in millinery, 
 and who was chiefly noted for a pair of hard gray 
 eyes, and the frequent repetition of the ejaculation, 
 "Ahem!" which she gave with touching pathos. 
 
AT TEA AT QUIMBY' S. 8 1 
 
 Mrs. Quimby found in Mr. Phillips an available 
 agent also, not that that gentleman was in sym- 
 pathetic accord with her views : very much to the 
 contrary, we fear. But Mrs. Quimby used him on 
 special occasions to lift her up to the proper con- 
 versational plane, in which office Mr. Phillips 
 operated somewhat in the character of a derrick. 
 
 On this occasion that worthy gentleman was 
 seated at the side of a young lady who aided in 
 the manufacture of paper-boxes through the day, 
 and who was now completing her second week in 
 the Quimby mansion. She was a young person of 
 quiet demeanor, and with a face not particularly 
 noticeable in any feature but the eyes, which were 
 large and slightly staring, and in color might have 
 been vulgarly described as " buttermilk." 
 
 On her first appearance in the house, the sus- 
 ceptible Ezekiah was struck most favorably, and 
 lost no time in improving on the introduction. 
 That he was in turn flatteringly considered by the 
 young lady, there could be no doubt, although he 
 was not aware of the same, and was in conse- 
 quence considerably torn by doubt, and elevated 
 by hope, and crushed by despair. In other words, 
 Mr. Phillips' soul was passing through a violent 
 siege of love in its fever-and-ague stages. He 
 felt, as he took his seat at the table and gave the 
 slim young lady a rapturous glance, that he must 
 know his fate before morning. He was in a situa- 
 tion that made it imperatively necessary that he 
 should have this knowledge. To be frank, Mr. 
 
82 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Phillips had a full-sheet poster in three colors to 
 get out the next day ; and he was certain he could 
 not do it full justice with his mind in this chaotic 
 quiver. He was contemplating this contingency 
 when Mrs. Quimby's voice aroused him. 
 
 " You was at church last night, wasn't you, Mr. 
 Phillips?" 
 
 " Yes'm," he said, starting from his revery. 
 
 " Didn't you think it was a splendid meeting ? " 
 she next inquired. 
 
 "Pretty lively," he replied, passing the young 
 lady the dried beef and a look of unutterable affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby paused a moment, and quizzingly 
 eyed the sugar-bowl, as if in some doubt of the 
 appropriateness of the term "lively" in this con- 
 nection. But she rallied. 
 
 " Didn't it almost make you wish that you had 
 religion, Mr. Phillips ? " she insinuatingly ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 "I don't know I hadn't I I couldn't 
 say," stammered Mr. Phillips, flushing to the very 
 roots of his hair, and trying his utmost to twist 
 his face into a propitiatory smile, while he was 
 delivering this plausible explanation. 
 
 It was a remarkable reply from him. In his 
 normal condition of feeling he would have de- 
 cisively, if not irreverently, answered in the nega- 
 tive ; but his present state of mind was softened 
 to a degree that was nearly akin to religion, and 
 he was not quite certain but that he desired it. 
 
AT TEA AT QUIMBY 'S. 83 
 
 He was not the first man, perhaps, to mistake a 
 love-sentiment for a religious emotion. 
 
 " I'll bet you had serious thoughts on it," said 
 Mrs. Quimby, with a glance that might have 
 looked like cunning were it not for the great 
 delicacy of her expression. " Nobody could set 
 under such preaching as that of last night, an* 
 have the Word presented as it was by him, an' 
 hear them prayers, an* not feel as if they was sin- 
 ners, an' needed grace right away. It was just 
 glorious ! I don't think I was ever at a meeting 
 where there was so much feeling as there was 
 there last night. God was there, or I don't know 
 what's what. It seemed to me as if the very roof 
 was a comin' off. Didn't it seem so to you, Miss 
 Hervisson ? " 
 
 The party addressed was the possessor of the 
 hard gray eyes, and she hastened to respond, 
 
 "Why, my ahem ! I was perfectly carried away 
 with it. I thought Brother Edgett was perfectly 
 grand per-fect-ly grand, ahem! He spoke so 
 feelingly, so impressively; and he has such .a 
 voice, ahem ! You could see that every word 
 came right from his very soul. Didn't you think 
 so, Mrs. Quimby ? ahem ! " 
 
 " I should say I did ! " exclaimed Mrs. Quimby 
 with enthusiasm. "If there ever was a man in 
 dead earnest, he is. Why" (looking all around 
 the table), "you could see he meant every word 
 he 'said by his very looks. Every time he swung 
 his arms, he showed what he was. Oh, he was 
 
84 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 splendid ! I wish you could a' heard him, Lucy, 
 because he's just the kind of preacher to suit you. 
 You will go with us to-night to hear him : won't 
 you, dear ? " 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you, Mrs. Quimby," she 
 answered. She saw her hostess's design, and 
 shrank from it. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby was disappointed, but she made 
 no comment. 
 
 "You'll go, Mr. Redner : won't you?" she asked. 
 
 He wanted to refuse, as Lucy was not going, 
 but consented before he could recover himself. 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Phillips, that you and Miss Hurley 
 will come too." 
 
 Mr. Phillips hastened to assure her, that, if 
 agreeable to the young lady, he would cheerfully 
 comply. The young lady graciously admitted that 
 it would be agreeable. 
 
 Upon this, Mrs. Quimby's face fairly shone with 
 delight at the success of this arrangement, which 
 promised so much of enjoyment to those con- 
 cerned ; and there was a grain of exultation in her 
 manner as she said, 
 
 " I think we should do all we can to help along 
 the cause. We must sow our seed, as the pastor 
 says, even if we don't see any fruit. We can't 
 always tell what will come of it ; but we must 
 keep on doing all the same, an' God will take 
 care of it. I got religion when I was a girl, an' 
 I've wished often that I had got it afore. Religion 
 is the best thing anybody can get hold of. It 
 
AT TEA AT QUfMBY'S. 85 
 
 helps 'jem, an* makes 'em feel good. I don't know 
 what I'd a' done with all my trials an' troubles 
 an' sickness, if it warn't for religion to comfort 
 an' stay me. It has been the only thing that's 
 kept me up, an' it has made me so happy hundreds 
 of times! I feel so good now, I can't tell any 
 thing about it. But I want more religion : we all 
 want more of it. It's something nobody had 
 oughter be without." 
 
 "Glory to God!" ejaculated her husband in a 
 mahogany sort of voice. 
 
 " So I say, Reuben : glory to God ! " she spirit- 
 edly returned. " An' may He come down an' take 
 hold of the hardened hearts, an' shake 'em up, 
 until every one in the world has got religion. Oh ! 
 why don't people get it ? Why will they keep 
 puttin' it off, an' puttin' it off, until it is too late ? 
 ' Now is the accepted time ; now is the day of sal- 
 vation.' ' Mrs. Quimby sighed, and contemplated 
 the cream-jug. 
 
 " Ahem ! " observed Miss Hervisson in a tone 
 of sympathy. 
 
 "What a happy day that will be," murmured 
 the landlady, as if communing with herself, " when 
 every man an' woman an' child willuv got religion, 
 when they all put away the things of the flesh," 
 here her eyes mechanically strayed to the dried 
 beef which was being put away, " and give their 
 whole hearts to " 
 
 " Ma, I love God," Dockerty took occasion to 
 mention at this juncture; and, as he said it, he 
 
86 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 looked around the table for marks of the approval 
 he was confident he had won. 
 
 "Then," continued his. mother without noting 
 the interruption, " we'll see a much different world 
 than this. Now, -don't you really think so your- 
 self, Mr. Phillips ? " 
 
 That gentleman was on the point of making a 
 suitable response, when Dockerty at once put in, 
 with some asperity, 
 
 " Say, ma, I love God, I tell you ! " 
 
 "Dockerty," said his mother sternly, "I have 
 asked Mr. Phillips a question, an' I want you to 
 keep quiet." 
 
 "Well, when I say I do, I do!" repeated the 
 perverse youth. 
 
 "Dockerty, if you don't keep still, I will give 
 you a setting up that you'll remember." 
 
 " Then, why don't you hear me when I tell you 
 I do ? " he crossly demanded. 
 
 "I did hear you." 
 
 " Give me some cake, then," was the sullen re- 
 joinder. 
 
 The cake was passed by the frowning woman ; 
 and Mr. Phillips undertook to say the diversion 
 having drawn the eager attention of all to him 
 that he had no doubt of it. 
 
 After this very satisfactory exposition of his 
 views on the question, the family rose from the 
 table, and the various atoms thereof dispersed, to 
 make ready for the evening service. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 87 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 
 
 IN the privilege of escorting Miss Hurley to 
 church, the foreman of " The Gazette " was ex- 
 alted to a degree of buoyancy rarely attained even 
 by a balloon. He was confident she was a most 
 estimable young woman, and he felt that matters 
 had progressed to a stage which demanded that 
 he should win her. In the light of her counte- 
 nance the dark record of past defeats and heart- 
 aches melted from both sight and memory, and his 
 whole nature went out to her with all the gush of 
 a first and only love. 
 
 He knew that he never had loved, and never 
 again could love, like this ; and to win her was not 
 only desirable, but absolutely necessary. It was 
 necessary for the peace of his mind in the present, 
 and for his welfare in the vastness of eternity. 
 This was very strong ground, but Mr. Phillips 
 knew it was proper ground. 
 
 He was in a flutter of delight all the way to the 
 church, and through the service, of which he heard 
 but precious little, and understood very much less, 
 we are sorry to state. 
 
88 'MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 It is gratifying to record that Miss Hurley acted 
 throughout it all in a most creditable manner, 
 showing no uneasiness, no alarm, no distress. It 
 might be said of her that she bore herself with a 
 heroism that was admirable. 
 
 She kept her eyes steadily fixed upon the clergy- 
 man, and evidently took in every sentence with 
 keen relish ; while poor Mr. Phillips sat in a quiver 
 of whirling thought, hardly realizing where he was, 
 or comprehending what it was all about that was 
 going on around him. 
 
 At the close of the service his nervousness be- 
 came more apparent. It seemed as if he could 
 not get her out on the street where he could have 
 her all alone to himself soon enough. It is singu- 
 lar that Miss Hurley was so calm and serene. 
 She moved from the building as if she had a fort- 
 night at her disposal for that purpose. Once on 
 the street, Mr. Phillips' nervous exuberance was 
 somewhat toned down by the proximity of the 
 ordeal he had voluntarily taken upon himself to 
 endure. It is not at all likely that Miss Hurley 
 anticipated, in the least degree, the purpose of her 
 companion. On the contrary, there was much in 
 her demeanor to indicate that she did not. She 
 spoke feelingly of the sermon, and said she had 
 been so interested in it, she was sure she had not 
 lost a single sentence. Then she wanted to know 
 who that was who sat two seats ahead of them 
 in the left aisle, and anxiously inquired what he 
 thought of the singing of the second hymn. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 89 
 
 At the first inquiry Mr. Phillips had great diffi- 
 culty in suppressing a groan. He could not 
 understand how it was possible for her to hear 
 that sermon with himself at her side. As to such 
 a hideously irrelevant matter as the identity of the 
 party two seats ahead in the left aisle, he had not 
 given the faintest thought. In fact, he had not 
 seen him at all, and hoped, with a sincerity that 
 could not be questioned, that he never would see 
 him alive. Of the hymn he had not heard a 
 single line. It might have been a Brazilian polka 
 on an instrument with one string, so far as his 
 knowledge ran. Something a thousand times 
 more important than all this filled his mind, and 
 held captive his every thought. 
 
 It would be a dreadful thing indeed, if, after all 
 his dreaming of winning her, she should be wanting 
 in the necessary reciprocal sentiment. But Mr. 
 Phillips could not now abandon making a protes- 
 tation of the intense affection he held in his heart 
 for her, and learning her feeling toward him. 
 Under this conviction he took occasion to slap 
 himself on the breast in a subdued manner, and to 
 charge himself with great feeling to 
 
 " Brace up ! " 
 
 " Did you speak, Mr. Phillips ? " inquired Miss 
 Hurley gently. 
 
 " No that is oh, no, I did not speak ! " he 
 hastened to explain, visibly disturbed by the 
 thought that she should have heard him. 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Every step 
 
90 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 was taking them nearer home. Mr. Phillips felt 
 that now or never he must take the momentous 
 step. He was not in an enviable frame of mind. 
 The knowledge of his physical failing in an emer- 
 gency of this nature came upon him with unpleas- 
 ant force. There was a faint hope in his breast 
 that time, the great healer, had either effected a 
 complete cure of the trouble, or greatly modified it. 
 The uncertainty was dreadful. 
 
 Mr. Phillips walked on with the young lady, 
 every step increasing his mental misery. She 
 asked him several questions concerning his im- 
 pressions of the meeting ; but his answers were so 
 vague and disjointed, and contained so little bear- 
 ing on the subject, that even the very moderate 
 young lady could not fail to be awakened thereby. 
 Mr. Phillips knew he was not giving intelligible 
 answers ; but he could not help himself. As he 
 subsequently remarked to a sympathetic friend, of 
 his tongue, " It just wobbled in my mouth." With 
 his whole mind concentrated on one subject, his 
 tongue could not intelligently dwell upon any 
 other; and he saw that further endeavors to re- 
 spond were only increasing the disturbance. If 
 he was to come to the point at all, he must do it 
 at once. With this pressure upon him, he plunged 
 into the abyss. 
 
 " Matilda," he began. The very sound of his 
 voice so startled him, that for an instant he paused. 
 It was so strange, so hard, and so unnatural, that it 
 sounded as if coming from beneath an unoccupied 
 
MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 91 
 
 building, while its ascent of his throat seemed to 
 raise a cloud of dust the entire way. 
 
 "Matilda," he repeated with another effort, "do 
 you know how long it is since we first see each 
 other ? " 
 
 Miss Hurley contracted her brow as if in a 
 pang of desperate thought. 
 
 " Why, I really don't remember," she answered. 
 
 " It will be three weeks to-night," said Mr. Phil- 
 lips huskily. 
 
 " Can it be possible ? I had forgotten all about 
 it." This was false, we are sorry to say. Miss 
 Hurley knew it was three weeks to almost an 
 hour. 
 
 " Yes, three weeks ago to-night," repeated Mr. 
 Phillips. " Do you know what I just said to my- 
 self the first time I saw you ? " The speaker 
 glanced tenderly on his companion. 
 
 " When you first saw me, Mr. Phillips ? " 
 
 "Yes, Matilda." It was wonderful the depth 
 of tenderness in the utterance of the name, 
 although much of it was obscured by the huski- 
 ness of his voice. 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure, Mr. Phillips." 
 
 " Well, I says to myself, says I says I, ' There's 
 a true lady for you ; there's style.' That's what I 
 said." Mr. Phillips threw out his chest under the 
 inspiration of this reflection, and looked very 
 steadily up the street. 
 
 " Why, I don't see how you could tell any thing 
 about me on so short an acquaintance ; for you had 
 
92 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 just seen me, you know." Miss Hurley was 
 nevertheless pleased by such 'appreciation of her 
 worth, despite the surprise she felt at its expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " I can't help it," protested the foreman of " The 
 Gazette," with fervor. "That's what I thought, an' 
 that's what I said ; an' I stand by it now, and a 
 hundred times more, by Judas ! " Mr. Phillips' 
 long and solemn features shone like a new hearse. 
 
 " O Mr. Phillips ! " cried the maiden, very much 
 shocked, " don't swear : please don't." 
 
 " Why, that ain't swearing, Matilda," earnestly 
 protested Mr. Phillips. " Just saying Ju " 
 
 " Oh, please don't ! " she pleaded, clinging closely 
 to his arm. 
 
 "I won't, if you don't want me to," he hastened 
 to assure her. " I'll do any thing to please you. 
 May Heaven split me open with a cold chisel 
 if" 
 
 "O Mr. Phillips! don't, don't, DON'T! It is so 
 dreadful to have you talk like that." 
 
 Mr. Phillips immediately subsided, partly from 
 doubting his ability to convey an adequate idea of 
 his fervor in language attuned to her delicate ear, 
 and partly from the delight he experienced in 
 having her clinging so helplessly to him. 
 
 "Matilda," he presently resumed, after a violent 
 effort with his throat, " I have got something 
 that is, I mean there is something something I 
 want to say." He stopped short at this juncture, 
 while the perspiration started out on his forehead 
 
MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 93 
 
 in very large drops. Like a discreet girl, she kept 
 still. 
 
 " I," he began again, and then coughed, " I want 
 to ask you if if if " Mr. Phillips went 
 off on a series of ifs, while his eyes protruded to 
 an unnatural degree, and his nose and cheek-bones 
 and chin appeared in glaring prominence. It was 
 only by clutching his throat in a prompt and vigor- 
 ous manner that he was able to stem the dreadful 
 flood of conjunctions that poured from his lips. 
 The effort caused him to stand still, and gasp for 
 breath. 
 
 It was a rather embarrassing position for a 
 young lady. Miss Hurley felt that something of 
 a striking nature was imminent ; but whether her 
 hopes or her fears were to be fulfilled, she could 
 not determine. If she had the hope of a great 
 brightness coming into her life, to cast its sun- 
 shine upon her path forevermore, there was also 
 the fear that some terrible physical casualty would 
 come to blight it. Really, Mr. Phillips did show 
 strong symptoms of having a fit right there in the 
 street. Unfortunate as was his condition, hers 
 was infinitely worse. 
 
 " Matilda," he gasped, after walking a few steps 
 farther, " I want to ask you if you do that is, 
 if you could " 
 
 Mr. Phillips could give no utterance beyond 
 this. His jaws twitched, his tongue rattled, his 
 eyes protruded ; but no expression came from it 
 all, that is, in words although his features, 
 
94 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 even in the dim snowlight, showed eloquently 
 enough the force of his convictions. The dreadful 
 weakness had struck Mr. Phillips, and he - could 
 not overcome it. He felt the pit of his stomach 
 giving away; but he could. not avert the disaster. 
 A cold, clammy perspiration bedewed his face, 
 while his limbs trembled to a degree that threat- 
 ened their usefulness. 
 
 One more gigantic effort he made to throw off 
 the demon that was riding his soul to its death. 
 
 " Matilda," he tremulously began, " it is three 
 weeks since first we met. Since then you and me 
 have been often together, Matilda. We've lived 
 right in the same house together, and seen one 
 another four or five times a day every day. You 
 ain't no stranger to me, Matilda: are you, Matil- 
 da ? " His voice began to falter at this juncture. 
 
 " No, Mr. Phillips," she softly replied, clinging 
 closer to his arm, but looking down to the walk. 
 
 His voice was very thick and unsteady when he 
 began again : 
 
 "Then, Matilda, do you think you do I mean 
 do you think that you could could could " 
 He broke completely down. 
 
 " Could what, Mr. Phillips ? " she whispered. 
 
 "Could could " he stuttered, shaking vio- 
 lently, "could you lo lo " They had reached 
 the gate. "Could could c-o-u-l-d ! " 
 
 The last utterance was a prolonged howl of 
 impotency ; and with it the thoroughly disgusted 
 and completely unhinged lover dropped her arm, 
 
MR. PHILLIPS MEETS AN EMERGENCY. 95 
 
 and fled up the street at his highest possible 
 speed. 
 
 For a moment Miss Hurley stood at the gate, 
 and looked after the retreating form in petrified 
 amazement ; and then, partly recovering her senses, 
 and suddenly realizing that she had miraculously 
 escaped a horrible fate at the hands of an impend- 
 ing lunatic, she precipitately retired within doors, 
 and lost no time in gaining the protection of her 
 own room. 
 
 The flying Mr. Phillips abated not his speed 
 until he reached the main street. Once there, he 
 made directly to the hotel, and entered the bar in 
 a stage of exhaustion that rendered him powerless 
 to speak. He went up to the counter, and leaned 
 heavily over it, catching desperately for breath, 
 while his long and prominent features bore an 
 appearance of such ghastly dismay that the bar- 
 tender immediately parted with his wits. He 
 could only stare at him, too amazed to speak. 
 
 " Ci cider brandy ! " gasped Mr. Phillips. 
 
 The decanter and glass were promptly placed 
 before him. 
 
 " Pour it." 
 
 The bar-tender hastened to obey. 
 
 Ezekiah grasped the vessel, and shot its con- 
 tents down his throat. 
 
 " Another," was all he said. 
 
 He was again helped. 
 
 " What's the matter, Ez?" asked the bar-tender, 
 seeing that he was reviving, and taking on a 
 
96 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 more natural look. " Haven't been hoisting in any 
 poison, have yer ? " 
 
 "Joseph," said Mr. Phillips, with great impres- 
 siveness, and leaning so far over the bar as to 
 threaten to cleave Joseph's face with his sharp 
 nose, " there's some things which should never be 
 permitted to escape the sanctity of the human 
 breast. This is one of *em." Mr. Phillips here- 
 upon straightened himself, made a dignified flour- 
 ish with his right hand, and gravely repeated, 
 "This is one of 'em." 
 
 With that he solemnly retired. But his com- 
 posure was but momentary, and came only from 
 the necessity of sustaining himself in the presence 
 of others. Alone on the street, his courage left 
 him; and, smiting his dishonest and recreant 
 stomach, he bitterly cried, 
 
 "If Heaven would only send me a camel, I'd 
 scoot away, and be at peace ! " 
 
THE WEDDING-EVE. 97 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WEDDING-EVE. 
 
 THERE never was a more devoted lover than 
 Tom Griggs. And so thoughtful and tender was 
 he in his wooing, that the most indifferent in such 
 matters could not fail to notice ; and even Redner, 
 with his professed advanced ideas of gallantry, 
 was deeply affected thereby. Rain or shine Tom 
 never missed his evening; and they never went 
 out into company or to an entertainment without 
 going together. It was a genuine pleasure to see 
 him in the rain give her four-fifths of the umbrella, 
 and composedly take the drops on his own de- 
 fenceless person. It was solid comfort to note 
 the readiness with which he would carry her Bible 
 when escorting her from church, for fear the bur- 
 den of the volume would tire her; while it was 
 the summit of delight to watch with what tender- 
 ness he would adjust her wraps, and bundle her up 
 so that not a breath of the cruel winter air should 
 touch the delicate form. Tom Griggs' greatest 
 joy was found in doing for his darling. 
 
 But now the end of the dreary waiting was 
 drawing nigh. Day succeeded day at that digni- 
 
98 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 fied pace with which time approaches an intensely 
 desired goal, and the eve of the wedding-day had 
 finally come. Tom Griggs knew that there never 
 had been, and never could be, so happy a man as 
 was he. He moved about and looked around in a 
 sort of mild delirium. He watched her every step 
 as she went about the little sitting-room getting 
 this and that together for the morrow, and looked 
 upon the flushed, happy face, and wondered to 
 himself if it were possible that the long-hoped-for, 
 earnestly-yearned-after night had really come, 
 the eve of their wedding-day. 
 
 A thousand times he had pictured it, and what 
 he would do, and what she would do, and what he 
 would feel, and what he would say, and how she 
 would look. It had been a bright, beautiful pic- 
 ture to him, so beautiful really that there were 
 times when he was led to doubt its ever coming. 
 But it was here now. Very startling, to be sure, 
 and almost improbable, but still it had come ; and 
 here he sat and greedily watched her every motion, 
 and there she was, his beautiful darling, right 
 before his eyes, and never looking more beautiful 
 or less real. 
 
 It was a dazed condition of mind he was in, and 
 it seemed that he must not stir, or the vision 
 would dissolve into nothing; and yet he wanted 
 to take hold of her, and assure himself in a most 
 substantial manner that it was all an actual fact. 
 
 There was much for her to do in picking up the 
 odds and ends left from the day's work ; but by 
 
THE WEDDING-EVE. 99 
 
 and by the last article was laid away in its place, 
 the last thread was picked up from the carpet, and 
 then she went to him, and sat down on his lap, and 
 put her arms around his neck, and her mouth close 
 to his ear, and whispered, 
 
 "Darling, I have got something to show you. 
 Do you want to see it ? " 
 
 For a moment he made no reply, but held her 
 silently, but with eloquent tenderness, in his arms. 
 
 " What do you want to show me, pet ? " 
 
 " Do you really want to see it ? " she asked, try- 
 ing at the same time to look as if it were possible 
 that he shouldn't want to. 
 
 " Certainly I do. What is it ? " 
 
 " Come with me." 
 
 She took up the lamp, and led him into the 
 parlor. She sat the light down, approached a 
 chair, removed from it a garment, and displayed it 
 before him, her eyes glistening with pride and 
 expectation. 
 
 "O my darling, how beautiful it is!" he rap- 
 turously exclaimed. 
 
 Indeed it was beautiful. They were to be mar- 
 ried the next morning at ten o'clock, and shortly 
 after were to start on their trip. The wedding- 
 silk was to be packed up for the journey, and she 
 was to be married in her travelling-dress. And 
 here it was. It was an ashes-of-roses color, trimmed 
 with satin of a corresponding shade ; and it was 
 made up in the very latest style, and that, to Tom, 
 appeared to be the climax of dressmaking art. 
 
100 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 It was a wonderfully pretty dress ; and as she 
 held it against her shapely form, and beamed over 
 its top upon him with her grand eyes, he just pre- 
 served sufficient calmness to realize that this glori- 
 ous picture was all, all his, and then in a flash he 
 had her and the delicate robe in one confused 
 mass in his arms. 
 
 The surprised girl had no chance to give the 
 faintest expression to the horror she felt at the 
 sacrilege to the garment, nor to make the least 
 move to save it. It was all she was able to do to 
 keep her breath through the ordeal, and was even 
 inclined to be thankful that she came forth as 
 whole as she did. 
 
 "Did I hurt it, darling ?" he asked with exas- 
 perating anxiety. 
 
 " O Tom ! " cried she, looking aghast at the 
 mussed robe, " how could you ? " 
 
 It was a cruel thing to have done, and the cul- 
 prit should have given evidence of the liveliest 
 penitence. But he didn't. On the contrary, there 
 was an undisguised twinkle of amusement in his 
 eyes. Looking up, she caught it. 
 
 " What a great awkward bear you are ! " she 
 exclaimed ; and then she laughed outright. 
 
 In a flash she was again struggling in the great, 
 strong arms, and the sacred dress was lying in a 
 crumpled heap on the carpet. 
 
 At the moment a tap came at the door ; and 
 Lucy's beautiful smile, lighting up the quiet face, 
 immediately appeared. Tom let go of his treasure 
 
THE WEDDING-EVE. IOI 
 
 in an instant, and promptly sobered down into a 
 degree of behavior that was quite comforting to 
 the sorely tried Anna. 
 
 Lucy came in to see what he thought of the 
 dress, and was even startled out of tier quiet air 
 by the condition it was in, but was, top, discreet to 
 make any comments. The sisters 'Smoothed its raf- 
 fled folds, and spoke of its excellences ; and Lucy 
 asked Tom if he didn't think the dressmaker had 
 done marvellously, and Tom said she certainly 
 had, although he mentally explained to himself, as 
 a sort of compromise with his pride, that she could 
 not very well have done less, with such a perfect 
 model to work upon. 
 
 To Lucy the garment was scarcely less a delight 
 than to the dawning bride. Wedding-garments 
 and baby-clothes have a claim peculiar to them- 
 selves upon a woman's heart. This is not shared 
 with any thing else, or affected by any thing else. 
 It is an isolated attachment, and lasts while life 
 exists. To Lucy the travelling-dress in which her 
 sister was on the morrow to begin a new existence 
 revived no memories, and shaped no expectations. 
 She never had "company," and there was none in 
 prospect. And yet the grave face grew graver as 
 she bent over it, and a tender dreaminess came 
 into her eyes. Unconsciously, even to herself, 
 she was thinking far ahead into the future ; not 
 grasping its possibilities by any means, but simply 
 wondering if it would contain any. Unconsciously 
 she sighed as she laid down the robe, and thought- 
 fully walked from the room. 
 
102 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 When she was gone, Tqm and Anna returned to 
 the sitting-room ; and it now being deserted, he 
 took the rocker, and she nestled down in his arms. 
 
 "Darling, can you realize that this is the last 
 night you' are* trr visit me ? " she asked. 
 , , "No, pet, I cannot. I have tried to think all 
 1'frc .etferii rig; that this' is the last time I am to leave 
 you, that to-morrow we are to be united forever ; 
 but I cannot grasp it. It all seems a dream to me. 
 I've looked forward to it so much, I've pictured it 
 so often, that I cannot realize that the reality is 
 here, that the eve of our marriage has actually 
 come. But it is here. This is the last night I am 
 to go away from you. No more ' good-nights ; ' 
 and no more long, cold, cheerless walks, every step 
 a torture because it was taking me from this para- 
 dise. Thank heaven, it is all over with ! and to- 
 morrow I shall take you to myself forever more, 
 my beautiful, beautiful darling ! " 
 
 "And has it been so hard for you to go away 
 from me nights, darling ? " 
 
 " Has it ? Can you ask such a question, pet ? " 
 
 " I know, Tom ; but don't you think it has been 
 hard for me to have you go ? " 
 
 " I suppose it was, dear one ; but it never 
 seemed so." 
 
 " Well, it has been very hard- to bear. But it 
 don't make any difference now : does it, Tom ? 
 This is the last night we shall be separated. To- 
 morrow night, darling, you will be " 
 
 She stopped, and buried her face in his neck. 
 
THE WEDDING-EVE. 103 
 
 " I will be what, darling ? " 
 
 She placed her lips to his ear, and drew her 
 arms tighter about his neck. All the love in her 
 heart freighted the whisper, 
 
 " MY HUSBAND." 
 
104 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 THE wedding-day dawned as bright and clear as 
 is possible for a day in winter to be. The snow 
 covered the earth, and it glistened in the rays of 
 the sun. The air was warm for the season, so 
 warm, that the snow crystallized in the fields, and 
 melted in the streets. 
 
 Tom Griggs' trunk (the circumstances of the 
 twain permitted but one), with his own garments 
 packed in it, was sent at an early hour to the Bay- 
 ard mansion to receive Anna's clothes. Tom felt 
 such a delightful sensation in the fact that her 
 clothes were to lie next to his in his trunk ! It 
 gave him the proud sense of possession that noth- 
 ing else short of the marriage-tie could give. 
 
 It was a very nervous day for Tom ; but he got 
 through with the duties of the morning all right, 
 although it was within a half-hour of performing 
 the service when he arrived at the house in a hack. 
 He had a new suit of clothes throughout, but he 
 did not look impressive. Grooms never do : that 
 is reserved for the bride. 
 
 The home of his Anna had taken on a strange 
 
AT LAST. 105 
 
 appearance. Every thing was in a state of change. 
 Bustle was everywhere apparent, and nothing 
 seemed settled or natural. He was aware of being 
 quite pale and ill at ease himself. Somehow there 
 was not that sweet, quiet, peaceful joy he had an- 
 ticipated. The expected triumph was weakened 
 by a sense of perspiration. The romance was 
 blunted by the all-prevailing evidence of practi- 
 cability. 
 
 He was shown upstairs to the front bedroom, 
 where he found the expectant bride, her sister, 
 and two young lady-friends. To Tom's agitated 
 gaze this trio bore the appearance of immediate 
 friends of the deceased. His darling was too 
 nervous, under the excitement of preparation, to 
 shed much love upon him. She was getting on 
 her gloves, and adjusting a bow, and trying her 
 skirts ; and so the poor girl had hands and mind 
 full to overflowing. 
 
 "Why, Tom, what kept you so late?" she 
 managed to gasp. 
 
 " I couldn't help it. Every thing went wrong." 
 
 It always does. 
 
 " Is it all right behind ? " she nervously asked. 
 This was addressed to one of the young ladies, 
 and referred to the set of her skirt. The party 
 questioned hastened to assure her that "it was just 
 lovely." 
 
 It certainly was. Perhaps the dear girl did not 
 realize it, how could she under the circum- 
 stances ? but she appeared superbly. Her 
 
106 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 shapely form was set off to the best advantage by 
 the graceful robe. Her face, always beautiful in 
 the cut of the features, was radiant with the happy 
 excitement that rilled her life, and the glorious 
 eyes were ablaze with the expectant glow of the 
 hour. As full of trepidation as was Tom Griggs, 
 he could not help noticing her wondrous loveliness, 
 and thanking heaven that all this radiance was his 
 own. 
 
 There was a fidgety air upon them all, except- 
 ing, perhaps, Lucy, whose tranquil face became all 
 the more composed as compared with those about 
 her. 
 
 The minister had arrived, and his voice could 
 be heard on the lower floor. This was reported by 
 one of the young ladies, who had resolved herself 
 into a committee of one, and had stationed herself 
 at the head of the stair, with a hearing apparatus 
 tuned to its highest pitch. 
 
 The moment had arrived. Mrs. Bayard, very 
 much flustered, appeared in person to see if all 
 was ready here, as every thing was in readiness 
 and waiting there. She was dressed in a stiff, 
 unwieldy black silk, and appeared so uncomfort- 
 able as to make Tom wince. Anna had been 
 satisfactorily impressed with the fact that her 
 dress could not fit better by any possibility ; and 
 now, as her mother appeared, they were fastening 
 on her bonnet. With this done, she stood com- 
 plete to travel ; and as there was but little time 
 intervening between the ceremony and the train's 
 
AT LAST. 107 
 
 starting, and as they were to have a lunch, it 
 looked very much, as Mr. Quimby himself ex- 
 pressed it, as if they were going to " take a bite, 
 and run." 
 
 The announcement that the minister was wait- 
 ing increased the trepidation of the twain for 
 whom he was waiting. It was a momentous 
 event. For ever and ever they were to be united. 
 Was there the faintest lurking of a fear in the 
 heart of either ? No : they loved each other too 
 devotedly for this. He knew, that, when he took 
 her to be his wife, he was taking an angel into his 
 life. She felt perfectly safe in giving the keeping 
 of herself forever into his charge, to cut herself 
 forever adrift from her home, because he loved 
 her. There was no one on earth, or in the heaven 
 above the earth, that she trusted as she trusted 
 him. Nevertheless there was a solemnity in this 
 severing of all former ties, and taking upon them- 
 selves a new tie ; and, also, there was a vague 
 sense of dreaminess in the consummation of the 
 event to which their hopes and desires had looked, 
 as if it could not be all real. 
 
 The mother and the two young ladies proceeded 
 downstairs, across the hall, and into the parlor ; 
 and following them came the two. Her arm rested 
 in his, and he could feel it tremble. He was 
 powerless to strengthen her, being himself too 
 nervous to even command his own resources ; but 
 he was very proud and very happy. 
 
 The minister rose as they entered. The friends, 
 
108 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 grouped about the room, searchingly observed 
 them. They took the position assigned them, and 
 the minister began the ceremony. In five minutes 
 it was over. The dream of their lives was realized : 
 she was his wife ; he was her husband. 
 
 "Mrs. Griggs, permit me to congratulate you, 
 and to wish you a long and happy wedded life." 
 It was her pastor who addressed her. He was the 
 first to break the embarrassing silence that fol- 
 lowed the ceremony. 
 
 Mrs. Griggs ! How simple the words ! but, ah ! 
 how much they expressed to her ! Yes : she was 
 no longer Anna Bayard, courted by Tom Griggs ; 
 but she was now Mrs. Griggs. It was the badge 
 of a new existence, the diploma of a graduated 
 joy. His wife, with his own name ! In the pro- 
 nunciation of that simple title was revealed the 
 crowning of a life-hope, the fruition of an intense 
 desire, the fulfilment of a daily dream. 
 
 What a thrill the name brought to her ! what a 
 thrill it brought to him ! There was this difference 
 between the two, as it always has been and always 
 will be in loving wedded twains : to her it was a 
 sensation of being possessed ; to him it was the 
 sensation of possessing. 
 
 After the congratulations the party adjourned 
 to the sitting-room, " where," as the next issue of 
 "The Gazette" expressed it, "an ample lunch 
 was prepared," to which they gathered with the 
 best of feeling, because every one was delighted, 
 as every one feels in duty bound to be at a wed- 
 ding. 
 
AT LAST. 109 
 
 And every one ate with a relish, and cracked 
 jokes, and laughed, and said things that, isolated 
 by themselves, would have been highly ridiculous, 
 if not criminally silly, but which made more 
 laughter. Anna blushed and laughed, and had 
 great difficulty in keeping her veil from her face, 
 and was afraid she would get something on her 
 dress ; and Tom sat by her, with his face wreathed 
 in a perpetual smile, and handled his food in a 
 manner that very clearly indicated he was uncon- 
 scious what he was putting in his mouth. 
 
 Mrs. Quimby, with a new flannel (selected espe- 
 cially for the happy occasion) swathing her neck, 
 and the arnica toned down by a generous infusion 
 of bergamot (the poor man's friend on festive 
 events), beamed upon the company with a face all 
 aglow with delight ; while Mr. Quimby, in the 
 fever of the general excitement, fully explained to 
 the clergyman the intricate process by which eels 
 are successfully bobbed for, with a few valuable 
 hints thrown in on the best way of scaling snakes 
 without " squoshin' 'em " in the performance. 
 
 Dockerty was there in all the glory of a green 
 jacket with limitless buttons ; and, with character- 
 istic perseverance, conquered and completely put 
 down seven pieces of very rich cake, and four cups 
 of very strong coffee, an act of devotion to the 
 newly married couple that very" nearly cost him his 
 precious life the following night. 
 
 Mr. Phillips was there also, dressed in an array 
 of black that was the extreme of imposing, and de- 
 
HO MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 siring, way down in his heart, to laugh with the 
 loudest ; but, repressing the inclination through a 
 stern sense of what was due to his lately lacerated 
 feelings, he devoted himself to the food instead, 
 and with an energy that bid fair indeed to com- 
 pletely repair the "goneness." 
 
 The lunch completed, the carriage appeared. 
 The treasured trunk was placed upon it, the bride 
 and groom and Lucy and the mother within it, and 
 two other carriages with friends followed ; and 
 thus the party proceeded to the railway-station, 
 where the happy twain were to take their depart- 
 ure on the long-coveted bridal tour. 
 
 It had been Tom's ambition to have this appear 
 to the outside world like an ordinary journey of a 
 long-married couple, and he flattered himself that 
 every thing was working that way to a charm. 
 Anna did not wear the traditional white hat with the 
 traditional long veil ; and he was not dressed in 
 that startling array of newness of exterior which 
 he had noticed as being so conspicuous in fresh 
 grooms. And so he took unto himself the com- 
 forting assurance that no one would suspect his 
 and her freshness, and that much embarrassment 
 would thereby be saved. * Poor fellow ! he did not 
 realize that the blushing face of his wife, her 
 clinging ways, her shrinking eyes, were telling the 
 story as plainly as if all the particulars were bulle- 
 tined all over her person in the very largest type ; 
 to say nothing of his own shining eyes, his nervous 
 movements, and his overstrained, gigantic efforts 
 to appear careless and indifferent. 
 
AT LAST. ill 
 
 But, for all this, it was a blissful journey. He 
 pointed out all objects of interest to her, and did it 
 with a delight that was manifest in every vibration 
 of his voice. And then, when the day advanced, 
 and she grew tired, she rested her head upon his 
 shoulder with such a precious sense of rest, and he 
 clasped her hand in one of his, and put the other 
 arm about her ; and the cars glided on, and they 
 two whispered softly to each other, and were bliss- 
 fully, blissfully happy. 
 
 Would the dream ever end ? 
 
112 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. 
 
 THE employees of "The Gallowhill Gazette", 
 were at the station to see the young couple off, 
 and made the characteristic remarks among men 
 on such an occasion. 
 
 " What did you think of it, old cock ? " convivi- 
 ally observed Mr. Phillips, slapping Redner on the 
 back, as they walked from the station. 
 
 " It passed off very nicely, I imagine," said the 
 young man. 
 
 " You bet it did ! She was a beauty, wasn't 
 she ? I wouldn't mind being in Griggs' shoes my- 
 self. By Judas ! didn't she show off stunning ? " 
 Mr. Phillips smacked his lips, and suddenly as- 
 sumed a grave expression, as if he was deeply 
 impressed by the circumstance. 
 
 At this juncture the party, consisting of the 
 office-hands, reached the hotel. 
 
 ."Hold on, fellers!" he cried. "The boss 
 wanted me to stand treat for you, and here's just 
 the place to do it. Come in." 
 
 Without further ado, Mr. Phillips started inside, 
 followed readily by his companions. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. 113 
 
 Ezekiah had received, as he intimated, an in- 
 junction from Tom to treat his fellow-workmen, 
 and had been given five dollars for that purpose. 
 Five dollars' worth of drink dispensed to two men 
 and a boy would, he reasoned, so unfit them for 
 their duties, that the office-work must necessarily 
 run behind. He was too conscientious an agent 
 to permit this ; so he discreetly maintained silence 
 upon the amount of the appropriation, and re- 
 , solved that two rounds were amply sufficient for 
 the occasion, and the balance he would devote in 
 the evening to several boon companions, who, not 
 being in any way connected with the office, could 
 not by any means endanger its interests, however 
 full they might get. With this laudable conclu- 
 sion reached, he walked up to the bar, and cheer- 
 fully observed, 
 
 " What will it be, boys ? Mine is cider-brandy." 
 
 "I guess I'll take a little Santa Cruz," said 
 Hazelton in the subdued voice of a regular prac- 
 titioner. 
 
 "Give me a bourbon straight," ordered young 
 Goodwin in a tone of swagger. 
 
 Redner said he wpuld take a piece of pie and a 
 glass of soda-water. 
 
 " Lippy " called for a glass of ale. 
 
 The refreshments being disposed of after an 
 appropriate introductory remark from Mr. Phillips, 
 that gentleman recklessly enunciated, 
 
 " Fill 'em up again." 
 
 This was done, and the contents speedily trans- 
 ferred to their several destinies. 
 
H4 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Mr. Phillips, feeling that the desire of his em- 
 ployer had been judiciously carried out, returned 
 to the office, while the others went to dinner. 
 
 About nine o'clock that night Mr. Phillips, four 
 congenial friends, a package of cigars, and an 
 apparently unlimited supply of cider-brandy, occu- 
 pied the office of "The Gazette." 
 
 At two A.M. the moon, looking in at one of the 
 windows, saw the form of the foreman of "The 
 Gazette" prostrate on the floor, with his head, 
 propped up by a pile of paper that his friends had 
 thoughtfully arranged for him. For some time 
 the full face of the moon ^peered in upon this 
 spectacle ; but the object of the attention knew 
 nought of it. With his mouth well opened, he 
 slumbered, the guttural sounds arising from his 
 throat filling the deserted room with strange 
 noises. 
 
 At five A.M. Mr. Phillips opened his eyes, and 
 gave a start. For a moment there was a dread- 
 fully confused condition of mind, in which he 
 realized nothing but the fact that it was quite 
 dark. The next moment came the consciousness 
 that he was lying down ; but where ? If on his 
 own bed, how did he come there ? He had no rec- 
 ollection of going home. He had no recollection 
 of any thing but smoke and drink and boisterous 
 merriment, and after that a blank. Into this 
 blank he could not advance a single inch. He 
 rose on his elbow, and rubbed his eyes. The 
 action cleared his mind somewhat, and the re- 
 
MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. 115 
 
 cruited eyes saw the dim light coming in at the 
 windows ; and then Mr. Phillips comprehended the 
 situation in all its stirring details, and with a groan 
 he sank back on his pillow of papers. For another 
 moment he gave himself up fully to the wretched- 
 ness of his feelings. Then he rose up to a sitting 
 posture. His head felt very much as if the upper 
 part of the skull had been split clear around. His 
 mouth was parched, his tongue swollen, his throat 
 utterly dried up. 
 
 He took hold of his head with both hands 
 tightly, as if to keep the upper part from coming 
 off. How horribly it ached ! Alternate flashes 
 of heat and cold shot over his frame. Mr. Phil- 
 lips thought there never had existed so horrible a 
 condition as this. He got up on his feet, shivering 
 until his teeth chattered. The instant he assumed 
 an erect position the room began to tilt up at one 
 side, and then started to turn around with him. 
 It was only by clutching a post with a desperate 
 grip that he saved himself from being thrown. 
 Thus holding on, he shut his eyes, and for a 
 moment let things swim. Then he opened them 
 again, but hung to the post ; and the location of 
 his goneness quivered under a sensation of deathly 
 sickness. 
 
 He tried to think what he had been doing 
 through the carousal, and at the same time strove 
 with all his might to keep the subject from his 
 harrowed mind. He recollected having said with 
 great distinctness and much feeling, three several 
 times, 
 
Il6 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 "Ain't this just solid happiness? No cold- 
 water sneaks are we ! Set 'em up, boys ! Whoop ! " 
 
 Oh, how he cursed himself for the utterance, 
 and prayed that the dreadful words might die out 
 of his memory forever ! But they would not. 
 They shot into his mind through every lull, how- 
 ever brief, in the memories and fancies and horrors 
 that crowded upon him ; and every time they came 
 to him he groaned aloud. Weak, trembling, and 
 half-crazed by remorse, he found his way to the 
 water-pipe, and helped himself freely to the liquid 
 which but a few hours before he declared with 
 vehemence to be fit only for babes and old women. 
 For a moment this draught revived him, in which 
 he began to hope that things were not really so 
 bad as his parched system had believed them to 
 be. If he had not been out on the street during 
 the unconscious part of the carousal, making an 
 ass of himself, the reflection caused him to 
 shiver, he might face the affair out with his 
 companions. 
 
 Where were they ? How drunk had they been ? 
 too drunk to have noted his calamity ? or too 
 much so to care to compromise themselves by 
 " blowing " on him ? Perhaps so. He began to 
 take courage. But, if they had been overpowered 
 to that degree, how could they have got away from 
 the office while he was left prostrate ? He groaned 
 as this prop weakened. Then, too, he thought of 
 his position on the floor, and the improvised pillow 
 of papers, which arrangement showed intelligent 
 
MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. 117 
 
 action on their part. And when this fully revealed 
 itself, and the re-action from the draught of water 
 set in, Mr. Phillips grew deathly sick. 
 
 Then came trooping through his inflamed mind 
 recollections of the boasts he had made, and the 
 speeches he had uttered, and the songs he had 
 sung during the convivial hours. They rose up 
 in dazzling contrast to his present awful humili- 
 ation, and he cursed aloud his " brilliancy (?) " 
 Again he applied himself to the water-pipe ; but 
 his chilled stomach refused to rally, while the 
 pain in his head grew more dense. How heartily 
 he despised himself ! How thoroughly debased 
 he appeared in his own eyes ! How sincerely he 
 cursed himself for ever touching a drop of the 
 infernal stuff! 
 
 Then came another phase to the troop of 
 thoughts, in which hope made a desperate strug- 
 gle for the mastery. He would pretend to his late 
 companions, when he met them (here he shivered, 
 and hope very nearly went under), that he had been 
 " playing off " all the while, and knew when they 
 left just as well as they knew it themselves. To 
 this end he brought his scattered wits to bear 
 upon the case, that he might recall something that 
 was done at the time of breaking up ; but they 
 were poor, feeble wits at the best, and, exercise 
 them as he might, he could not get them beyond a 
 certain point in the carnival. All after that was a 
 blank, the more frightful because of its hidden 
 possibilities. What awful folly had he been guilty 
 
Ii8 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 of during that period ? His inflamed imagination 
 pictured the height of silliness as filling it, and he 
 shivered even while the perspiration broke through 
 his fevered skin. 
 
 He lighted the gas, his hand trembling so, he 
 could scarcely hold the match, and looked shrink- 
 ingly about the room. There were still standing 
 the boards on which the spread had been made. 
 On this table stood some shreds of bologna, a lot 
 of broken crackers, several cigar-stumps, a bottle, 
 and two glasses. At the sight of each of these 
 eloquent reminders of his folly he groaned afresh. 
 He looked on the floor, and saw the wreck of two 
 other tumblers, and two more bottles, and other 
 reminiscences of the colossal shame. 
 
 He was obliged to gather them up, although 
 every downward motion sent the pain surging in 
 waves of agony to above his eyes. But he has- 
 tened to clear away the vestiges ; for in a little 
 while people would be stirring on the street and 
 at the house, and he wanted to get home unob- 
 served. All the while he was doing this his mind 
 was on the rack in its effort to recall the events 
 of the preceding evening, and to strive to pierce 
 the veil between memory and the awakening. He 
 shrank with a sickening sensation from each res- 
 urrected horror; yet the subject possessed a fasci- 
 nation that he could not resist. 
 
 The last memory of the affair that he could 
 clutch was hearing the clock strike twelve, and 
 some one suggest that they had better break up. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS SAVES THE OFFICE. 119 
 
 He could not identify this person ; but he recol- 
 lected that he had two heads, and that, on the sug- 
 gestion being made, he himself had jumped up, 
 and smitten the table with great feeling, and had 
 vehemently cried, 
 
 " Not by a damn sight ! We won't go home till 
 morning, brothers. Set 'em up ! Hoop-la ! " 
 
 At the recollection of this dreadful speech, the 
 natural solemnity of Mr. Phillips' face intensified 
 to a degree that was simply appalling. His great 
 eyes, now bloodshot, rolled hysterically in their 
 sockets ; and his long, drooping nose showed the 
 clearest disposition to dive into his bosom, and 
 take refuge under his vest. 
 
 " I never shall touch another drop of liquor as 
 long as I live ! " he cried in a frenzy of remorse. 
 "Never, NEVER, NEVER!" he reiterated with 
 increased vehemence. 
 
 Then he turned out the gas, and took his shiver- 
 ing frame and demoralized system and splitting 
 head to his boarding-house. This and his room 
 he reached without being seen by anybody. The 
 room was very dark and very cold : the former he 
 relieved by lighting a lamp ; but from the latter 
 there was no relief, except by going to bed. This 
 he did not dare do, for fear that his slumber would 
 be heavy, and carry him well into the forenoon. 
 He had a presentiment that one or more of his 
 . late companions would be at the office early to see 
 about him, and he wanted to be there to show that 
 he was not so overcome as they imagined him to 
 be. He would not he must not miss that. 
 
120 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 Then there was another reason why he should 
 keep awake. He had been directed by his chief 
 to attend a political convention in a neighboring 
 town the following day, and would have to go 
 to-day to be there at the caucus in the evening. 
 He was in no condition to do this. A funeral or 
 an execution would have been more in his line, 
 were he able to report any thing in his frightfully 
 demoralized state. He determined to send Redner 
 in his stead ; and he must see him early, as the 
 only available train for this place left Gallowhill at 
 ten A.M. 
 
 So he sat on the bed, and pulled the clothes 
 around him, and waited until he heard Redner, 
 who occupied the next room, getting up. 
 
 Then he went in there, and told him what to do, 
 with directions how to do it. This done, Ezekiah 
 returned to his own room, emptied the water- 
 pitcher into his feverish throat, arranged his toilet, 
 and went downstairs to wrestle with a cup of 
 coffee. 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 
 
 IT was a long ride, and to the ordinary traveller 
 it was a tedious one ; but Redner had armed him- 
 self with copies of "The Ledger," "Weekly," and 
 " Saturday Night ; " and with this array of palata- 
 ble nourishment he was well fortified against 
 weariness. Besides, the novelty of the mission, 
 and the prospect of writing something that was to 
 go into print, were in themselves sufficient to lift 
 his mind to a plane far above that pursued by a 
 railroad. So Redner buried himself in the for- 
 tunes and misfortunes of the several heroes and 
 heroines, and saw a George Redner in every one 
 of the former, and a quiet-faced, blue-eyed girl in 
 every one of the latter. 
 
 He was scarcely aware that any time had 
 passed, when the four-hours' ride was over, and 
 he was at his destination. He found his way to 
 a hotel, and saw, on reaching it, that most of the 
 delegates were stopping there. He got a room 
 and his dinner, and then went down into the 
 office and the reading and bar rooms, moving 
 about among the men there assembled, and listen- 
 ing to what they said. 
 
122 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 He found men in pairs or groups at every step. 
 Some were talking loud ; others in low, confiden- 
 tial whispers. Although young in years, and new 
 to this business, he did not fail to notice that 
 these men wore an incongruous appearance. They 
 looked like muffled drums, or Shakers in plaid 
 pants, or a seal-skin sacque on a lawn dress. They 
 were, for the most part, tawny-haired and tawny- 
 bearded men, dressed in black, and stiff in move- 
 ment. When one was not awkward, he was fop- 
 pish to a degree that was offensive. He tried 
 to associate these uncomfortably rigged people 
 with their homes and their home pursuits, but 
 fell back from the task defeated and chagrined. 
 
 The short, thin man, looking fully ten years 
 older than he really was, with a stoop to his 
 shoulders, and long white hairs on the back of 
 his hands, he strove to picture following a plough, 
 or pitching hay, or foddering cattle ; and then he 
 looked at the shiny black suit, and sighed. A 
 burly man, with nobs on his hands, and short, flat, 
 broken, begrimed nails at the ends of his fingers, 
 he was anxious to believe was a mechanic, and he 
 tried to put him alongside of a bench in a dusty 
 shop ; but he looked at the shiny black suit, and 
 sighed again. 
 
 It was a painful spectacle, and depressed the 
 spirits of the young reporter. He grew tired of 
 wandering among these men, whose faces were as 
 strange as their appearance was incongruous. He 
 grew tired of the catarrhal manifestations, the 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 123 
 
 elevated feet, the loud guffaws. He was prepar- 
 ing to go out on the street, when he was touched 
 on the arm by a short, stubby man, dressed in 
 coarse clothes, and wearing a rather broken and 
 rusty fur cap. The face was as strange as the rest 
 to Redner, and was a very freckled face, with 
 large, colorless eyes. 
 
 " I hope you'll excuse my speaking to you, sir," 
 said the owner of these features ; " but ain't you 
 the gentleman that writes for 'The Gallowhill 
 Gazette'?" 
 
 " I am," said the young man, with unction. 
 
 " I'm from Gallowhill, myself," volunteered the 
 man. This was not said in a tone of sympathy, 
 but rather of congratulation. 
 
 ".Are you? " said Redner indifferently. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I have been to work here cutting 
 stone for the past six weeks. You never seen me 
 in Gallowhill, I guess." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " How's Mr. Griggs ? He's to be married soon, 
 ain't he ? " 
 
 " He was married yesterday." Redner said this 
 rather stiffly, as he could not understand what 
 business it was to the man. 
 
 " Yesterday, was it ? Well, I declare ! I knowed 
 he was a-going to be married afore I come away ; 
 but I didn't know when, though. An' so it was 
 yesterday, hey ? Well, I guess my old woman had 
 her hands full." 
 
 " Your wife ? " suggested Redner, wondering 
 
124 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 what she could have had to do with the ceremony, 
 yet glad that he stood and talked with the hus- 
 band of one who had been under the same roof 
 with Lucy. 
 
 " Yes : she washes for Mrs. Bayard, and helps 
 'em when they have any thing going on. I got a 
 letter from her the other day, an* she said the wed- 
 ding was a-coming off putty soon, an' she would 
 have to be there a couple of days or so to help 
 'em. Maybe you have seen her there, or heard 
 them speak of her. Her name is Martha Ting." 
 
 Redner explained that he had been in Gallow- 
 hill but a few weeks, and had not visited the 
 Bayards. 
 
 The man paused a moment, and looked uneasily 
 about the room. When he spoke again, it was hesi- 
 tatingly : "I thought, sir, I'd like to ask you for a 
 favor, if you've a mind." 
 
 "A favor, eh?" said the young man. "What 
 is it ? " 
 
 " I wanted to ask you if you'd mind doing up a 
 short letter for me to the old woman. You see, 
 sir, I ain't much of a hand at such business ; an' 
 with the working in the stone my fingers is that 
 stiff that I couldn't well hang on to a pen, let alone 
 moving it straight. I'd like to let the old woman 
 know about how I'm a-doing here ; and I thought, 
 when Bill in the stable told me a gentleman from 
 'The Gazette' was here, an' knowing that writing 
 is in your line, that I'd ask you to do it for me, if 
 you had the time. I only want a few lines, an* 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 125 
 
 I've got paper an' a envelope with me." As he 
 concluded, he reached into an inside pocket of his 
 jacket for the articles in question. 
 
 While the man was speaking, Redner was busy 
 thinking; and by the time he had finished, if not 
 before, he saw that the writing of this letter would 
 be followed by its delivery by himself, and that it 
 was more than likely it would betaken to the Bay- 
 ard home. He told the man to go with him to his 
 room, and he would write the letter. Reaching 
 there, Mr. Ting gave him the headings of the sub- 
 jects he desired treated; but as there was not 
 much of news in the humdrum life he was lead- 
 ing, and as everybody about him was a stranger 
 to his wife, there was but little to make a letter of. 
 He gave his name to be appended thereto, and sat 
 silently by, reverently watching the movement of 
 the pen, until the letter was finished. Then he 
 asked Redner if he would take charge of it to Gal- 
 lowhill, and have a boy leave it with Mrs. Bayard, 
 where his wife would get it. Redner promised to 
 attend to this ; and Mr. Ting took his departure, 
 well pleased with his agreeable amanuensis. 
 
 The next evening Redner reached Gallowhill, 
 and went directly to the home of the Bayards with 
 the letter. Every step of the way he fervently 
 prayed that Lucy would come to the door. So 
 great was this desire, and the fear she would not, 
 that he was all of a tremor on ringing the bell. An 
 elderly lady answered the summons. He had seen 
 her at the railway-station when the wedding-party 
 
126 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 went off, and he knew she was the mother of the 
 girl he had fondly hoped to meet. It was a sore 
 disappointment ; but there was nothing to do but 
 to deliver the letter, and go on to his boarding- 
 house. 
 
 The next morning Lucy took the letter to Mrs. 
 Ting's house to read it to her, as that lady was 
 not sufficiently posted in the various lines and 
 curves of penmanship to catch their significance 
 with the necessary promptness. 
 
 Mrs. Ting was a muscular woman, with consid- 
 erable flesh on her frame, and a powerful wen on 
 the very end of her nose, somewhat after the man- 
 ner of a unicorn. This protuberance tended to 
 give her face a more decided practical cast than 
 the features themselves, and their expression was 
 wholly that way. It was a red face, as was proper 
 enough from twenty years' suspension over the 
 steam of a wash-tub ; and the eyes were without 
 any particular expression, as was eminently natu- 
 ral in a washerwoman. She was glad to see Lucy. 
 
 "An* you've got a letter from the old man 
 too ? " she said. " Why, how did you get it ? " 
 
 Lucy explained that it had been left at the house 
 the night before. 
 
 " Why ! " she ejaculated, turning the envelope 
 over and over, and examining it with lively curi- 
 osity, " it's so sing'lar it would come like that. I 
 wonder how he's getting along. The last time he 
 wrote, he said the rheumatism was iri his leg agin." 
 She paused as she related this circumstance, and 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 127 
 
 looked musingly at the address. " Read it to me, 
 child," she presently added, "an' let's see what 
 he's got to say for himself." 
 
 Lucy took the letter, and opened it. As she 
 glanced over the page, there was not in her mind 
 the faintest suggestion of what was really a fact, 
 that this letter was written to her, that every 
 stroke of the pen was followed by a thought* of her, 
 and that all the thoughts combined formed them- 
 selves into a picture of just this scene, her read- 
 ing the letter to Mrs. Ting. 
 
 Unconscious Lucy ! Unfortunate Redner ! 
 
 She did not commence at once the reading of 
 the letter, but glanced at the top of the page with 
 a puzzled, uncertain expression. Mrs. Ting sat 
 opposite, her hands on her knees, her sleeves 
 rolled up, and her eyes intently fixed on Lucy. 
 
 " What's the matter, child ? " she asked. " Can't 
 you make it out ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Lucy: "I can read it easily 
 enough ; but I I " She stopped, and flushed 
 slightly, and glanced nervously over the top of the 
 page at Mrs. Ting. 
 
 " No bad news, I hope," said that lady. 
 
 "Oh, no! I think not; but I will read it to 
 you : 
 
 "'Stepford, March 6, 1876. My dear, precious 
 wife,' " 
 
 "What's that?" almost screamed the wife. 
 
 Lucy looked at her in alarm. Her face was 
 almost white, and her eyes appeared to be starting 
 from their sockets. 
 
128 AIR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Ting ! what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Good gracious ! matter enough, I should think. 
 Does he really say that ? Have you read it right ? " 
 
 " Yes : that is just the* way it is." 
 
 Mrs. Ting groaned. 
 
 " I was in hopes you might have made a mis- 
 take," she said despondently. She rubbed her 
 head, and looked about in a half-dazed manner. 
 " I've lived twenty years with Joe Ting, and borne 
 a good 'eal, but never nothing like this." 
 
 " Why ! " exclaimed Lucy in surprise : " I don't 
 see any thing out of the way in this." 
 
 " I s'pose not," answered Mrs. Ting sadly ; " but 
 you are young yet, child, and don't see into things 
 as one of my years does. When Joe Ting said 
 that, he was drunk or crazy, perhaps both," she 
 added, gloomily. 
 
 " Please don't say that, Mrs. Ting," pleaded 
 Lucy. 
 
 " I can't help it, child. It's a dreadful thing to 
 be sprung on me in my time of life, an' worked as 
 I have done." 
 
 Lucy was still more amazed. 
 
 Mrs. Ting shook her head slowly and dejectedly. 
 
 " To have him goin' aroun' slingin' such bosh at 
 me ! Ugh ! I never gave him any encouragement 
 to do that. I have always been a woman of sense, 
 if I do say it ; an' he'd never try to play such 
 soft sawder on Martha Ting if he was in his right 
 mind. He'd never do it, I can tell you. But he's 
 got off there among a lot of drunken scalawags, 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 129 
 
 an* they're leadin' him off : they're leadin' him off. 
 Mark my words, Lucy : they're leadin' him off." 
 The unhappy woman took up her apron, and wiped 
 her eyes. " But go on, dear : I can bear it. Read 
 the rest : I'll get the strength to hold up under it." 
 The distressed girl, scarcely comprehending the 
 misery of her companion, renewed the reading : 
 
 " ' I am glad of this opportunity to send you 
 a few lines. My work is not so hard as it was at 
 first, and I am getting better acquainted with the 
 people about me. The rheumatism in my lower 
 limb'" 
 
 "Why don't the old fool say 'leg' ?" interjected 
 the bereaved wife. 
 
 " ' Is getting much better, and scarcely 
 troubles me at all. I think I will experience no 
 more pain from it. I sent you forty dollars by a 
 postal order last Wednesday, and I hope you re- 
 ceived it safely. I wish you would send me my 
 flannel undergarments that I left at home. Don't 
 forget it, darling.' " 
 
 "Great heavens !" gasped the horrified listener 
 as this endearing term struck upon her ear. 
 
 " ' I shall send you some more money next 
 week. I have got a good boarding-place, much 
 better than where I was before ; and I would be 
 very happy if you were only with me, dear one.' " 
 
 " Oh ! " groaned Mrs. Ting. 
 
 " ' I miss you more than I can tell, my 
 own.'" 
 
 "Lucy!" suddenly demanded Mrs. Ting, "are 
 those words in that letter ? " She spoke sternly. 
 
130 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 "Certainly they are," answered Lucy, looking 
 up in surprise. 
 
 " He was drunk, then, when they was put on that 
 paper. Mark my words, Lucy Bayard : that man 
 was drunker than the drunkennest ; and may 
 Heaven save you from the shame that has come 
 upon me this day ! But go on : I can stand it. 
 I'm strong : I sha'n't back down." She closed 
 her lips tight together, and squared herself in a 
 chair, as if preparing for a galvanic shock. 
 
 With a sorely troubled heart, the young girl 
 returned to the letter : 
 
 " ' But in a few weeks I will be with you again. 
 Don't grieve over my absence.' " 
 
 " Oh ! " shot from the compressed lips. 
 
 " ' The time will soon pass. I count the days 
 impatiently.' " 
 
 " Drunk ! " ejaculated the listener. 
 
 With a trembling voice, Lucy continued, 
 
 " ' But soon they will be gone ; and then I will 
 come to you, and take you in my arms, and kiss you 
 again and again, my blessed wife/ " 
 
 " Drunk as a fiddler ! " groaned the wretched 
 woman. 
 
 " ' Affectionately, your loving husband, Jo- 
 seph.' " 
 
 " Is that all of it ? " demanded Mrs. Ting, trying 
 to master her grief and anger and shame. 
 
 "Yes : that is all." 
 
 She rose from her chair, took the letter into her 
 own hands, and at once threw it into the stove. 
 
REDNER WRITES A LETTER. 131 
 
 "O Mrs. Ting!" cried Lucy, "how could you 
 do that? It was from your husband, and I do 
 not see why you feel so about it." 
 
 "Child," said the unhappy wife, softening in 
 her anger as she looked into the distressed face of 
 the lovely girl, "you are young now, as I said 
 afore, an' don't understand ; but when you are 
 married twenty years, an' your man calls you his 
 darling (ugh !) an' such rubbish as that, you can 
 mark it down at once that he is drunk or crazy. 
 No man in his sober senses would go to dom' it. 
 It ain't nateral ; it ain't human. Joe Ting was 
 drunk when that letter was writ, drunker than- 
 a fiddler, or he wouldn't a slobbered around like 
 that. What he wants is to be laid over a barrel, 
 an' pounded with a fence-rail till all that bosh an' 
 bad rum is pounded out of him. That's what he 
 wants ; an' I hope to Heaven some one will get 
 hold of him, an' do it before he shows his face in 
 this house." She went back to her work, her lips 
 tight shut, and her brow darkened. 
 
 Poor Lucy looked after her for a moment, sorely 
 puzzled by it all ; but, seeing she did not unbend 
 from her frigidity, she returned silently to her home. 
 
 Unfortunate Redner ! Happily he did not know 
 how had been received the sentiments which had 
 sprung spontaneously from the inner temple of his 
 heart. 
 
 But it is more than likely, that, when Mr. Ting 
 has occasion to have another letter written home, 
 he will insist upon its contents being carefully 
 read to him before sending it. 
 
132 MR. rHILLIPy GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 THE train bearing the young married couple 
 back from the tour reached Gallowhill Saturday 
 evening. It was Anna's desire to return then, 
 because the next day was Sunday ; and her first 
 appearance at home as a bride would be in her 
 best attire, and before a much larger number of 
 her town-people than would be possible on any 
 other day. She had often pictured herself sweep- 
 ing into church as a wife on the " first Sunday," 
 the observed of all observers. It had been a 
 dream with her long before she knew Tom Griggs, 
 to be deepened and intensified after she became 
 his pledged wife. Anna's wedding-silk was to be 
 worn in Gallowhill for the first time that Sunday. 
 It was an ashes-of-roses, exquisitely trimmed, and 
 an admirable fit. Anna contemplated it with par- 
 donable pride ; Tom, with rapture. 
 
 They were going to begin housekeeping at once. 
 The new home was a small structure, rented a 
 few days before the wedding. The carpets and 
 furniture had already been ordered, and during 
 their absence the mother and Lucy had seen the 
 
IN THE NEW HOME. 133 
 
 new place put fully to rights, and now it was 
 ready to receive them ; but Mrs. Bayard believed 
 it best, as it was night when they came, that they 
 should go to her house for tea, and then to their 
 own roof. This Anna would not listen to. She 
 and Tom had provided every thing necessary for 
 an immediate occupation, and the first tea in the 
 new home had been the one bright picture before 
 them all the time of their absence. They could 
 not give it up now. 
 
 So they were driven directly to their own house; 
 and, there being a good fire in the kitchen-stove, 
 the work of preparing tea by the deft fingers of 
 Mrs. Bayard required but a few moments. Long 
 before Anna had looked at the things Lucy at- 
 tempted to show her, the table was spread, and 
 the tea ready. 
 
 Of course Anna took the head of the table, 
 and presided ; and in doing it she made a most 
 charming picture. Her beautiful face was flushed 
 by the excitement, the glad anticipation, the nov- 
 elty of the scene; and her eyes shone with the 
 delight that was in her heart. There was just a 
 trifling tremor in the hand that directed the tea- 
 urn, and a nervousness in the anxiety to see that 
 all were helped. But she was so proud, so happy. 
 The joy that filled her life was manifest in every 
 move, every word, every glance; and, whenever 
 she turned her shining eyes upon her delighted 
 husband, that individual would immediately jump 
 up from his place, and go around to her, and take 
 
134 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 the beautiful face right up to his own, when it 
 would for a moment be lost to the view of the 
 others. 
 
 And so, with the kisses and the laughter, and 
 her wanting to know what he thought of the 
 dishes and the cutlery and the napkins, and this 
 and that (although he had seen them all as much 
 as she had), the tea was prolonged for a full hour. 
 But it was such a delicious hour that no one 
 minded the flight of time, and all were astonished 
 when they looked up at the clock, and saw how 
 long they had been sitting there. 
 
 The mother said that she and Lucy would clear 
 off the table, and wash the dishes ; but the young 
 wife would not listen to that. She was such a 
 wilful young wife, and was so determined to take 
 charge of every thing, that the mother and Lucy 
 gave up to her.- Dear girl ! she could not bear to 
 surrender an atom of her prerogative; but she 
 wanted with her own hands to do it all. Tom 
 opposed, because he knew she was tired from the 
 journey; but when she had pinned on the pretty 
 bib-apron Lucy's forethought had provided for 
 her, and pushed up her sleeves, she looked so 
 bewitchingly cosey and home-like that he gave up 
 all opposition at once, and was only too glad of 
 the opportunity for seeing her thus attired. Cer- 
 tainly his precious wife never appeared more dear 
 to him than she did at this moment ; and he could 
 not resist catching her in his strong arms, and giv- 
 ing her one of his anaconda embraces. 
 
IN THE NEW HOME. 135 
 
 " O Tom ! " she laughingly cried, as she re- 
 leased herself, "what a sad plight you have got 
 my new apron in ! Lucy will be real mad at you 
 for mussing her work." 
 
 But Lucy promptly repudiated such a senti- 
 ment, whereupon Tom felt warranted in taking 
 another risk, and did so, greatly to the distress of 
 the apron. 
 
 " Now, Lucy," she said, drawing her face down 
 into a very demure compass, "you can help me by 
 drying the dishes while I wash them, and Tom can 
 entertain mother, and she can entertain him ; and 
 thus both will be kept out of mischief while we 
 do the work. Now, Tom," she added, looking 
 very gravely at him, and holding up a very pretty 
 hand to enforce his attention, "you keep right 
 there by mother, and don't you dare stir one 
 step." 
 
 Having thus provided for him, she set to work 
 with Lucy to clear the table. It must have been 
 a remarkable dish-closet (although, to an ordinary 
 mind, there was apparently nothing extraordinary 
 about it) ; for, upon the storing away of every piece 
 therein, she would impulsively exclaim, 
 
 " O Tom ! do come and look at this ! " And he 
 would straightway go and look, and immediately 
 thereafter there would come from the door a half- 
 smothered voice in vehement protestation : " Ooh- 
 ooh-ooh ! Oh my, you have just taken my breath ! 
 Go away, you great bear ! and don't come near me 
 again to-night." 
 
*3 6 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 Of course he would go away ; and of course 
 he was almost immediately called again, when the 
 same performance, with scarcely any variation, 
 would be repeated. Then the dishes were to be 
 washed ; and during this operation the young wife 
 was as circumspect and dignified as a housekeeper 
 of twenty years'- standing. It was delightful to 
 watch her movements, at least Tom found it so : 
 for he did not take his eyes from her a single 
 moment; and, when she gave him a glance, it was 
 so full of solemnity, that the happy fellow would 
 laugh outright. 
 
 After the dishes were put away, Mrs. Bayard 
 showed Tom the location of the coal-bin in the 
 cellar, and Anna went down, too, to see where the 
 vegetables were stored ; and, when she saw how 
 nicely every thing had been arranged, she just 
 clapped her hands like a pleased child, a mani- 
 festation which was immediately taken by her 
 ever-watchful husband as an invitation for his 
 attention, and the next instant she was struggling 
 in his enthusiastic arms. 
 
 She really enjoyed seeing him shovel the scuttle 
 full of coal. It was- the first time he had done such 
 work in years. But he did it well, and mounted 
 the stairs with his burden with all the decorum of 
 a full-fledged benedict, greatly to the amusement 
 of Anna, and even to the relaxation of the grave 
 face of Lucy. 
 
 When upstairs again, Mrs. Bayard gave Anna 
 some advice in the matter of preparing breakfast ; 
 
IN THE NEW HOME. 137 
 
 and, it then being late, she and Lucy took their 
 departure. Anna dearly loved her mother and 
 sister; but she was glad when they were gone. 
 She wanted to be alone with her husband, to go 
 with him through all their rooms, to talk with him 
 of the joy in their lives. And so she and Tom 
 went through the house together. 
 
 It was not much of a journey ; for the twain 
 were in humble circumstances : but every step of 
 the way was a sweet sensation ; and, better than 
 all, what they had was so all-sufficient, that not. a 
 thought came into their minds of how much better 
 and how much more extensive their goods would 
 have been had there been more money in the 
 purchase. 
 
 And, when they came back to the sitting-room, 
 he drew the easy-chair to the fire ; and she sat on 
 his knee, and put her arms about his neck, and 
 laid her face close to his, and softly cried. 
 
 He did not say any thing to her. He knew that 
 she was too happy to find expression in any other 
 way but this : so he drew her a trifle closer in his 
 arms, and kept silent, while her tears flowed 
 freely. 
 
 By and by the intensity of her feelings became 
 subdued, and the tears grew less and less ; but she 
 did not speak. She did not care to speak. All 
 she cared was to lie there close to him, and feel 
 his arms about her, and his face against her own. 
 Every dream of her loving nature, every picture 
 of her bright fancy, was realized in full; and the 
 
138 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 joy that filled her life found its truest expression 
 in her silent tears. 
 
 And thus these two, strong in their love, happy 
 in the present, and full of precious trust in the 
 future, rested together in their new home in per- 
 fect peace. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 
 
 THE week following the return of Tom and 
 Anna, they joined a skating-party. It was well 
 on in the month of February, and the skating 
 would soon be over : so it was arranged to have 
 the party then. It was a delightful night, and the 
 ice was in fair condition. The party were young, 
 full of animal spirits, and comparatively free from 
 care ; and thus every thing was favorable to a 
 season of enjoyment. Among the number was 
 Mr. Phillips, who had not been on skates for some 
 time, but who modestly admitted, that, when a 
 boy, he " could skate the legs off of Jupiter," 
 a performance whose detail he did not explain, but 
 which must have required, as was readily inferred, 
 no small amount of skill. Mr. Phillips, on this 
 occasion, escorted a dressmaker, who occupied a 
 room nearly opposite his boarding-place. Having 
 been three days in the employ of Mrs. Quimby, 
 she had been brought under his immediate notice ; 
 and, with that gallantry which characterized him, 
 he had paid her the high compliment of bestowing 
 the full treasure of his heart upon her. 
 
140 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 The ice was reached in safety. It was in a 
 basin, fringed about the shores with pines and 
 hemlocks, like sombre hackmen waiting for an 
 audience to disperse. The ice lay in a glittering 
 sheet under the beams of the moon. A dozen or 
 more of young people were flying over the surface, 
 with occasionally one here and there abruptly 
 sitting down upon it. 
 
 Mr. Phillips, with his usual forethought, ripped 
 a board from a fence near at hand for the ladies 
 to sit upon while having their skates adjusted. 
 Tom held his darling in his lap, and put on her 
 skates very much as he would pull on a pair of 
 boots. When the happy girl saw all the other 
 heads down, she would bring her pretty lips sud- 
 denly against his. She was very happy. 
 
 In the mean time Mr. Phillips was distinguishing 
 himself in his own peculiar way. The legs of 
 Jupiter which he had once been able to skate 
 completely off grew so colossal by the time he 
 reached the ice, that he began to doubt very seri- 
 ously if he had ever been able to affect them at 
 all, let alone disposing of them entirely. The 
 dressmaker, whose name was Miss Blivens, was in 
 a state of great excitement. She was a novice on 
 skates, and was very much afraid she would fall, 
 and hurt herself. She gave expression to this 
 belief about forty times while the gallant Ezekiah 
 was adjusting her skates. It was not so often, 
 however, that he failed a single time to respond in 
 a tenderly assuring manner that there was not the 
 
MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 141 
 
 faintest danger of her falling with him at her 
 side. He was even grieved that she should enter- 
 tain such a fear. Club-skates, with screw and 
 clamp fastening, were a novel feature in that line 
 to him. The last skating he had done was with 
 the strap article. He saw that the club skate was 
 a more convenient article, and he could not help 
 deducing therefrom that it was a much better 
 article to get around on. 
 
 With Miss Blivens provided for, Mr. Phillips 
 proceeded to put on his own skates ; and, this 
 done, he got up, and helped her up. Mr. Phillips 
 anticipated an abundance of bliss from this night's 
 venture. He saw, with that keenness of percep- 
 tion peculiarly developed in him, that she was a 
 superior being, one to love, to admire, to lean 
 upon in the hour of adversity ; and his whole heart 
 went out to her in a spontaneous burst. Looking 
 into her face, he could not understand how it was 
 that he ever should think he loved anyone else. It 
 was odd. And now he was to skim over the glit- 
 tering ice with her for hours. 
 
 They made a delightful picture as he helped her 
 up to her feet. He held both of her hands for 
 that purpose, while his feet wobbled on the skates 
 in a manner that looked very much as if he did 
 not have perfect control over them. There "was a 
 smile on his face ; but the look of intense anxiety 
 that lay over it robbed it of all significance. Miss 
 Blivens had to sit down again while he tightened 
 his skates. This done, she was helped up once 
 
142 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 more, and he proceeded to feel his way out on the 
 pond with her. It was very new, and very excit- 
 ing; and withal very delightful to Miss Blivens. 
 She clung tightly to his hand with one of hers, 
 and with the other she hung desperately to his 
 sleeve. It was delightful to him to have her thus 
 cling, and to hear her little nervous exclamations, 
 " O Mr. Phillips ! don't let me fall." 
 
 Let her fall ! He might permit the eternal hills 
 to fall, or even stand impassively by while the 
 whole universe went over in a disastrous heap. 
 But she ! never ! 
 
 Still, with this beautiful sentiment thrilling his 
 breast, there was a vague sense of uneasiness 
 back of all. He kept on his feet, but the skates 
 acted curiously. He simply wobbled along; and 
 the movement was not only ungraceful, but it 
 threatened to wrench him apart at the hips. 
 Besides, there was a lively sensation of going over 
 backwards, to resist which strained every nerve. 
 
 She was very timid, and very fearful of falling; 
 but he spoke soothingly. 
 
 "There is no danger, Miss Blivens, none in 
 the least. Just keep up straight, and hang on to 
 me, and I'll keep you up." 
 
 " I know, Mr. Phillips ; but then, you see, I've 
 never been much on skates, and I feel so fright- 
 ened. But you have had so much experience, that 
 you forget how a new beginner feels." 
 
 " Well, that's so. There's something in that," 
 said Mr. Phillips, straightening himself proudly. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 143 
 
 t, 
 
 There was a great deal in it. It was the most 
 graceful tribute a woman can pay to a man. Her 
 sharp eyes had detected at once his perfect control 
 of himself on the ice. Mr. Phillips was highly 
 gratified. 
 
 " Oh ! you'll make a splendid stater yet, Miss 
 Blivens," he cheerfully assured her. "You've got 
 it in you, I know. It's nothing when you get 
 used to it. All you've got to do is to do just as 
 you see me do. You see, in the first place, you 
 want confidence. You don't want to think of 
 falling at all. You want to believe you are going 
 to do it, and then you'll be sure to do it." Mr. 
 Phillips smiled blandly over the safe deliverance 
 of this information. 
 
 "Is that the way, Mr. Phillips?" she tremu- 
 lously asked, clinging to him so helplessly that he 
 was thrilled to the very marrow. 
 
 " That's the very way, my ahem ! " He was 
 going to say " dear," but rescued himself from the 
 temerity by a mighty spasm, and blushingly substi- 
 tuted "friend." 
 
 However, he compensated himself for the loss 
 by bestowing on the top of her head, which was 
 directly under the protecting range of his nose, a 
 glance of infinite tenderness. 
 
 They wobbled along a few steps farther. 
 
 "Are you enjoying it, Miss Blivens?" he 
 thoughtfully inquired. 
 
 "Very much, Mr. Phillips," she was good 
 enough to say. 
 
144 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 " It is so exhilarating," he rejoined. They were 
 moving ahead at the somewhat startling* speed of 
 a mile an hour. " There's nothing like it to start 
 up the blood. It makes one feel like a new per- 
 son. When, I'm on the ice like this, and the 
 moonlight is falling, and the cries of the other 
 skaters fill the air, and I'm skimming over 
 Ooh ! ah ! Take care ! Great Judas ! " 
 
 The awful suddenness with which Mr. Phillips' 
 legs flew out from under him wrenched this ex- 
 clamation from his pallid lips in a half-scream. 
 It was so incomprehensibly sudden, there was 
 no time to catch hold of any thing, or to think. 
 In a flash he was on his back, striking the ice with 
 a force that knocked the breath clean out of his 
 body, and dragging the unfortunate Miss Blivens 
 over with him in a confused whirl of elaborate 
 dress-goods. Fortunately, in her descent, one of 
 her skate-heels rasped him back of the ear, and 
 the shock restored him to consciousness. At the 
 same time a skater was passing near at hand; and 
 by his timely aid Miss Blivens was lifted to her 
 feet, and sustained until Mr. Phillips could perform 
 the same office for himself. Then he clasped her 
 hand, and she again clung to his sleeve. But it 
 was almost a mechanical motion on his part. Mr. 
 Phillips was very much subdued. 
 
 " O Mr. Phillips ! how did it happen ? " gasped 
 Miss Blivens, very much shaken up herself by the 
 dreadful suddenness of the affair, and somewhat 
 troubled by suspicions of her appearance in the 
 descent. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 145 
 
 Mr. Phillips was not quite positive as to the 
 cause of the mishap ; but he had an impression 
 that some unprincipled person had dropped grease 
 on the ice, and even spoke sternly of a nature that 
 would be guilty of such an act. 
 
 The conversation was not resumed where it was 
 broken off by the accident. For the present, Mr. 
 Phillips' thoughts' were bent on the ice, for which 
 he was beginning to cherish a feeling of profound 
 awe. It was well he was thus occupied ; as, other- 
 wise, the wobbling motion he was obliged to make, 
 and the helplessness of his lady, might have even- 
 tually become a tiresome performance. For a few 
 minutes they squirmed over the ice in unbroken 
 silence. Near them was a small island of bogs, 
 with high tufts of grass springing therefrom. It 
 was free of snow. Mr. Phillips, perceiving this, 
 steered their course in its direction. The moment 
 he saw the little island, he evolved a plan for 
 immediate action. 
 
 He felt that the woman who was clinging so 
 convulsively to him, and threatening every mo- 
 ment to throw him over on his head again, was 
 one designed to make his life happy, and without 
 whom it would be useless to attempt to live. 
 Thoroughly convinced of this, it was natural that 
 he should seek to learn if she felt correspondingly 
 toward him. He could not do this as they were ; 
 for a sudden slip might not only jeopardize his 
 suit, but his limbs or skull as well. He thought it 
 best to secure her by a seat on one of the bogs, 
 
146 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 and thus unhampered he would skim around on 
 the ice to show her his skill ; and, having warmed 
 her up to a high pitch of enthusiasm, he would 
 take a seat by her side, hold her hand with a gentle 
 pressure, and pour into her ear the story of his 
 great love. This was what Mr. Phillips denomi- 
 nated "striking the iron while it was hot." 
 
 Getting her seated was a matter of great diffi- 
 culty, owing to the perverse nature of the ice and 
 their skates ; but he finally succeeded in perform- 
 ing it, although not in a very graceful manner. 
 Miss Blivens was glad indeed to sit down, after the 
 strain she had been subjected to in keeping her feet. 
 
 Mr. Phillips now set abo'ut to show her what he 
 could clo on skates. 
 
 The first shove out of his foot warned him that 
 he must use more caution, or he would skate him- 
 self apart. He was surprised to see how readily 
 his foot moved when it started. It was only by a 
 powerful wrench that he succeeded in recovering 
 it, m and saving himself from going over. The 
 shock sobered him. With much greater care he 
 began again, but it was difficult work. _ He found 
 that it required considerable effort to maintain a 
 perpendicular, and it was only by short strokes 
 that he was able to keep up. This undoubtedly 
 came from lack of practice. He moved around in 
 this way for about five minutes, to use himself to 
 the motion, and then he grew a trifle more venture- 
 some. He saw, that, as long as he kept his feet 
 going, he was all right. He presently detected, 
 
MR PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 147 
 
 also, that it was much easier to keep them going 
 than it was to make them stop. He discovered 
 this after twice wrenching his back so seriously as 
 to fill him with dire alarm about the ultimate safety 
 of his spine. He noticed, too, that turning around 
 seemed to require almost as much management as 
 the manoeuvring of forty thousand troops in the 
 presence of a vindictive enemy. 
 
 He had got away some little distance from the 
 anxious lady watching him, when he determined 
 he would bear down upon her with full speed, just 
 to show her how he could do it, and then take a 
 seat at her side, and learn his fate. He felt that 
 success in his suit depended in a measure on the 
 way he acquitted himself, the impression he 
 made on the very eve of his proposal. It was a 
 critical stage in his life, and he appreciated it 
 keenly. He wanted to sail up to her erect and 
 graceful, and to that purpose he now concentrated 
 every thought and muscle. Getting himself faced 
 about by a sort of jig motion (entirely beyond his 
 control), so as to face her direction, he slapped his 
 treacherous stomach with the injunction to "brace 
 up," and started. 
 
 He put every muscle and nerve into play ; and, 
 while his plunges were somewhat spasmodic, still 
 he made excellent speed. When he got within ten 
 yards of her, he brought both feet together, straight- 
 ened his body, folded his arms across his chest, 
 and sailed forward in pleasing style. At five yards 
 of her a bright thought struck him. He would 
 
148 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 spread out his feet, and then whirl suddenly around, 
 thereby cutting the well-known and exceedingly 
 pretty design called the " spread eagle." He had 
 done it a thousand times when a boy, and remem- 
 bered just how to make it. With this view, he 
 cried to her, "See here, Miss Blivens!" And 
 then he spread his feet. 
 
 The instant he did so he saw the dreadful mis- 
 take he had committed. His feet passed immedi- 
 ately beyond his control, and went apart so far as 
 to threaten to split his body in twain. He made 
 a desperate clutch to recover them, caught one, 
 made a grab for the other, threw out both arms 
 wildly for support, quivered for just one instant in 
 the air, and then went down on the back of his 
 head with awful velocity, and with an expression 
 on his face that defies all description. 
 
 Miss Blivens screamed outright. 
 
 The force of the blow caused a million lights 
 to dance before his eyes. Then there was a mo- 
 ment of darkness, and Mr. Phillips came back to 
 this life to discover that he was sitting on the ice, 
 and that Tom Griggs was putting on his hat. He 
 made no answer to the inquiry if he was hurt. As 
 every nerve in his body was testifying most elo- 
 quently to the general wreck of his structure, he 
 perhaps thought any testimony from his lips would 
 be superfluous. There was a terrible ringing in 
 his head that tended to confuse his ideas of what 
 had taken place. He sat there, and stared vacantly 
 ahead of him, the awful solemnity of his features 
 being beyond all description. 
 
MR. PHILLIPS DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF. 149 
 
 His eyes fell upon the skates on his feet. A 
 tremor convulsed his frame. 
 
 " Take off those devilish things," he said. 
 
 The request was complied with, and he was then 
 assisted to his feet. 
 
 His lower limbs felt as if they had been wrenched 
 from their sockets, and put back wrong ; his spine 
 was a solid mass of ache from its base to his neck ; 
 his coat was split the full length of its back ; and 
 his head was full of ringing noises, as if its con- 
 tents had hardened into metallic substances, be- 
 came detached, and were rattling around loose. 
 So strong was this latter impression, that he re- 
 fused to move his head, for fear of mixing the 
 particles in irretrievable confusion. 
 
 He did not take a seat by the side of Miss 
 Blivens, and pour into her ear the story of his pas- 
 sionate love. He did not even look for her, or 
 ask after her. It was most extraordinary, but he 
 really hoped he would never see or hear of her 
 again. A complete revulsion of feeling had set in. 
 He was convinced that she was the sole cause of 
 his mishap. If he had never seen her, he would 
 not have been in this plight. As it was, he was 
 undoubtedly battered beyond all hope of repair, 
 and would forever after carry through life a 
 patched-up and very much dilapidated carcass. 
 He felt so intensely on this point, that when Anna 
 innocently observed, " Poor Miss Blivens ! she was 
 terribly frightened," he savagely muttered, 
 
 " Dammer ! " 
 
MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH ONE OF THE CHARACTERS FADES AWAY. 
 
 THE new journeyman from Boston did not wear 
 well in the office of "The Gazette." He was too 
 slow at the case to suit Mr. Phillips in times of 
 emergency, when what type was not set by the 
 force had to be made up by himself. We all can 
 understand this feeling. He was too imperfect in 
 his work first, and in his proof-correcting next, to 
 please Tom Griggs. He was guilty of the most 
 absurd errors in type, which were frequently per- 
 petuated in the paper through his carelessness in 
 dealing with the proofs. His deficiency in the 
 art preservative caused Hazelton to look upon him 
 with an unfriendly eye ; while his long hair, cloak, 
 and disinclination to go on sprees, were deemed by 
 Goodwin and " Lippy " sufficient ground for their 
 dislike. 
 
 Redner was aware he was not congenial to the 
 human particles of the office ; but he understood 
 that it was because he was on a plane infinitely 
 above them, and he punished their action by keep- 
 ing more to himself. In this isolation it was natu- 
 ral he should seek for sympathy. One of his 
 
ONE OF THE CHARACTERS FADES A IV AY. 15* 
 
 * 
 
 intensely sentimental nature could not possibly tie 
 up love within himself : it must go out to some 
 object. His went out to the sweet-faced Lucy 
 Bayard. 
 
 His opportunities for seeing hex were not fre- 
 quent ; but he held her constantly in his thoughts, 
 and subscribed for two more literary papers, and 
 walked by her home as often as was .possible. He 
 also regularly attended the church to which she 
 belonged, and twice had the rather delirious pleas- 
 ure of walking home with her. There was nothing 
 in his manner to awaken the divine "passion in her 
 guileless breast ; but her gentle heart was touched 
 by his isolated position, and she dealt kindly with 
 him whenever he came in her way. 
 
 One Sunday evening, a few weeks after the 
 skating carnival, Redner accompanied her to 
 church. He had made up his mind on that very 
 day to tell her of his love, and to learn from her 
 lips if she returned the passion. That she did so 
 he could not very well doubt ; for had she not acted 
 pleased to see him ? 
 
 At the church they found Anna in the pew; and 
 after .the service she asked them to walk home 
 with her, as she felt timid. Lucy did not ask why 
 Tom was not with her, because Tom did not go to 
 church often since his marriage. He liked his 
 ease and his pipe too much after the week's work 
 was over to dress up and go out. So the two ac- 
 companied her home. They declined the invita- 
 tion to go in, at least Redner said it was getting 
 late, and Lucy acted on the hint thus given. 
 
152 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 * 
 
 Shortly after they reached Lucy's home, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Bayard retired, and the young folks were left 
 alone. Redner picked up that great social lever, 
 the family album, and turned over its exciting 
 pages. He was on the edge of a mighty revela- 
 tion, and his hand shook as he turned the leaves. 
 
 " Miss Bayard," he presently said, speaking her 
 name with some difficulty, " I have got something 
 I want to tell you. I hope you will not be of- 
 fended with it." 
 
 Lucy said she was sure he would not say any 
 thing to offend her, but did not ask him what it 
 was. This rather disconcerted him. It was full 
 a minute before he resumed, 
 
 " I don't want to offend you. I would kill my- 
 self before I would say a word to hurt you. But 
 I must tell you what is on my mind. You won't 
 be angry with me ? " 
 
 Lucy could not conjecture what this matter was; 
 but she assured him she would not be angry. 
 
 "It has been on my heart a long time, ever 
 since I first saw you, and I cannot keep it to my- 
 self any longer. O Lucy, Lucy ! " he passionately 
 cried, suddenly dropping on his knees at her feet, 
 and clasping his hands over his heart, while his 
 eyes turned up so that little but the whites were 
 visible, " I love you " 
 
 "Mr. Redner!" cried the shocked girl, "don't 
 do this ! Don't do it ! " She attempted to rise, her 
 face scarlet with confusion ; but he clutched her 
 dress, and prevented her. 
 
ONE OF THE CHARACTERS FADES AWAY. 153 
 
 " Don't leave me ! " he begged. " I love you, 
 love you as the herb of the field loves the dew ; 
 love you as the earth loves the gently falling rain. 
 O Lucy ! sweet Lucy " 
 
 " Please get up, Mr. Redner ! please get up ! " 
 cried the distressed girl. " You must not do this. 
 Some one will come. Do get up ! " By a great 
 effort she freed herself from his clutch, and retired 
 to the farther part of the room. 
 
 " Lucy," he gasped, still on his knees, with his 
 hands stretched out to her, " don't you accept the 
 treasure of my heart ? Are you not my own ? " 
 
 "O Mr. Redner! don't ask me this. Get up, 
 please ! " 
 
 " Never ! till your lips pronounce my fate," he 
 vehemently protested. 
 
 " I cannot love you, Mr. Redner," she answered, 
 her voice trembling with the agitation of the situ- 
 ation and the fear of some one coming in. " Do 
 get up, please ! " 
 
 He sprang to his feet. She looked at him ap- 
 prehensively. 
 
 " Miss Bayard, do you reject my suit ? " he 
 sternly demanded. 
 
 " I am so sorry," she faltered. 
 
 " Answer me." 
 
 " Don't talk of this, please ! I cannot love you, 
 Mr. Redner." 
 
 "Is all this for nought?" he tragically cried, 
 smiting his forehead, and glaring at the ceiling. 
 " Is my suit contemned, my love discarded ? " 
 
154 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS 
 
 The poor girl was too agitated to speak. 
 
 " It is enough ! " he resumed in the same tragic 
 air, striding to the table, and putting on his hat, 
 and fastening his cloak. " The hour will come 
 when you will weep scalding tears over this brutal 
 act. Ere another sun sets in yon horizon," he 
 added, looking under the table for his cane, " my 
 pulse will be silent in the chill mists of death." 
 
 Before she could give utterance to the horror 
 she felt, he was gone. She sank nerveless into a 
 chair, and pressed her hands tightly upon her eyes 
 as-if to shut out a ghastly vision. 
 
 What should she do ? what could she do ? She 
 suffered so keenly, that she could not remain still. 
 She paced the floor in an agony of apprehension. 
 She did not love him ; she could not : but her ten- 
 der heart was cruelly agonized by his suffering. 
 Why did he ever see her? why was she ever 
 born ? She went to her room, but she could not 
 sleep : her mind was torn and racked by a terrible 
 fear. 
 
 On leaving her, Redner did not go directly to 
 his boarding-house : he walked the streets for an 
 h6ur, and then he went to Quimby's. Removing^ 
 his shoes, he took his light, and went down to the 
 cellar, where, finding the half of a mince-pie on a 
 swing-shelf, he carried it to his room, and ate it in 
 gloomy silence. 
 
 The next day he wrote her, that, if she did not 
 change her decision of the night before, he would 
 drown himself. She was glad to hear from him, 
 
ONE OF THE CHARACTERS FADES AWAY. 155 
 
 glad to know that he was not dead. She wrote 
 him a careful, sensible letter, gently telling him 
 that she could not be to him what he desired, but 
 assuring him of her esteem, and begging him to 
 forget all about her, except as a friend. In an- 
 swer to this, he wrote that he never should forget 
 her, that she had wrecked his life, and all that re- 
 mained for him now was to fade away. 
 
 In the matter of fading he was unexpectedly 
 and materially aided the day following by Tom 
 Griggs, who, finding an atrocious error in the 
 paper that had been marked in Redner's proof, 
 lost all patience, and peremptorily discharged 
 him. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that you don't want 
 me any longer ? " demanded the young man ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 " Yes : that is it." 
 
 " Why is this ? " 
 
 "Because I can't afford to keep a man who 
 butchers his work as you do." 
 
 " How dare you talk like that to me ? " he hotly 
 demanded. 
 
 "Here's your money," angrily rejoined Tom. 
 "And now you leave this office at once, or I'll 
 help you out, you miserable fraud ! " 
 
 Inflamed with passion as Redner was, he could 
 not fail to notice that Tom Griggs was fully a 
 third larger than himself. He clutched the 
 money, and strode to the door. 
 
 " You will hear from me again very soon," he 
 
156 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 hissed between his clinched teeth, as he passed 
 out. 
 
 That was three years ago, and he has not yet 
 been heard from. But that is the way with most 
 people : they promise to write, and then don't 
 doit. 
 
THE WRONG SIDE OF 7OM GRIGGS' BED. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TOM GRIGGS GETS OUT ON THE WRONG SIDE OF 
 THE BED. 
 
 TOM GRIGGS ate his breakfast in comparative 
 silence one Monday morning. There was a frown 
 on his face, and he chewed his food and gulped 
 down his coffee as if he was undergoing a most 
 disagreeable penance. One of the selected articles 
 in the preceding number of "The Gazette" was 
 entitled "Cheerfulness at Meals." It .was the 
 cream of some modern Solomon's observations on 
 the imperative necessity of a cheerful spirit for 
 the handmaiden to wait on good digestion. Tom 
 Griggs reproduced the article in his columns be- 
 cause of its sterling sense, and it is to be hoped 
 his readers profited by it. But Mr. Griggs was 
 not just now thinking of this. It was the day 
 before publication, and there was much to do to 
 prepare the matter for that issue. To make this 
 performance seem a mountain, and to make him 
 feel totally unable to scale it, was the fact that 
 he had a check out for sixty-three dollars, and not 
 a single dollar in the bank to meet it, although it 
 would undoubtedly be on hand itself that very 
 day. Punctuality is the chief virtue of a check 
 which lacks its face at its back. 
 
158 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 The prospect of collecting the money before 
 three o'clock was an exceedingly dismal one. So 
 Tom chewed his food morosely, and looked at the 
 table, and not at his wife. 
 
 It was not, perhaps, a very cheerful-looking 
 table. It was the morning of wash-day, and the 
 spread was doing duty for the last time. A Mon- 
 day-morning table-spread is not an inspiring spec- 
 tacle. The steak was considerably more than done, 
 and was dry and hard, very good qualities indeed 
 in a ginger-snap. The potatoes had been left in the 
 water after being removed from the fire, and were 
 soggy. The coffee had been boiled too earnestly. 
 At her best Anna was not a success in broiling 
 steak, or making a pot of coffee ; but she had a 
 good heart and a magnificent head of hair. On 
 this occasion she had also an aching tooth. She 
 had been kept awake half the night by the pain ; 
 and the washerwoman was an hour late, and the 
 wind was wrong for the draught of the stove. In 
 the mind of the young wife there was not in all 
 Gallowhill a more sorely tried housekeeper. Be- 
 fore she was married, Anna knew just how a table 
 should be kept, the same as people outside of a 
 newspaper-office know just how a paper should be 
 conducted. In her case, as in theirs, experience 
 was too much for the idea, and got away with it. 
 She did not feel this morning as if she could lift 
 her hand to do a stroke of work ; and the ache of 
 her tooth made her temper sore all around its 
 edges. Absorbed in the ache, and efforts to over- 
 
THE WRONG SIDE OF -TOM GRIGGS^ BED. 159 
 
 come it by applications of hot coffee, she was as 
 silent as he. 
 
 As Tom chewed his food in silence, his mind 
 was in that condition to be easily operated upon 
 by the least observable trifles, if of a disagreea- 
 ble nature. A two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man 
 might have wrecked his sides in an explosive 
 guffaw right under the window without moving a 
 single feature of Tom's face in sympathy there- 
 with, while the whimper of a child would have 
 almost tempted him to lift his hand in anger. 
 
 As he chewed away, his eyes rested upon the 
 table, vaguely at first, as if his mind were engaged 
 far distant, and then gradually concentrated on its 
 various spots or stains, until each one grew into 
 such significance as to seriously annoy him. This 
 led him to recollect that the coffee was muddy, 
 that the steak was a crisp, that the potatoes were 
 s ggy 5 an d, recalling these little episodes, it 
 occurred to him that the coffee was always indif- 
 ferent, the steak always overdone, the potatoes 
 always water-soaked. Once well launched on this 
 flood of reflection, there were a number of depress- 
 ing reflections ready to greet him. Was it right 
 that things should be so ? Did he not have 
 enough to battle with, without being crippled on 
 the start by a half-furnished stomach ? It was not 
 much to ask that his food should be cooked prop- 
 erly, so to get the right nourishment from it. It 
 was not much to as'k that a clean spread should 
 deck the table the morning of the day on which 
 
160 MR. PHILLIPS^ GONENESS. 
 
 he had to collect sixty-three dollars to make good 
 a bank-account. These were such inconsiderable 
 trifles, that he wondered why Anna did not look 
 after them. At the same time his heart was hurt 
 by the fact that she had not. 
 
 Thus brooding, he rose from the table ; searched 
 for his coat, and found it ; searched for his hat, and 
 found it ; and then prepared to start. It was with 
 a remarkably diffident step, as if his heart was so 
 full of lead as to have slopped over, and run down 
 the back of his legs, and formed a pool in each 
 heel of his shoes. His starting aroused her. She 
 sighed. 
 
 " Are you going ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I wish you'd step into Walker's, and tell him 
 to send me some potatoes and a broom and a bar 
 of soap. Tell him to send them right away, for 
 there isn't a bit of soap in the house. And get 
 me a bottle of camphor. I used up what mother 
 gave me yesterday, and I can't go through another 
 night without something to deaden the awful 
 ache." 
 
 " Why don't you have the tooth pulled ? " 
 
 " What should I do that for ? It ain't a decayed 
 tooth : it's only a cold in my jaw." 
 
 Tom knew this ; but there was a certain amount 
 of pressure on his mind that had to be let off in 
 some way. He could not very well protest against 
 the errand at the grocer's. Had it been possible 
 to do so, there would have been no need to speak 
 
THE WRONG SIDE OF TOM GRIGGS' BED. 161 
 
 of the tooth. Tom wanted to assure himself, if 
 no one else, that she was leaving something un- 
 done. 
 
 " What shall I get the camphor in ? " he asked, 
 the fall in his voice indicating the depth of his 
 disappointment over the failure of the tooth as an 
 auxiliary. 
 
 " There's the bottle mother gave me : take that. 
 It's on the bureau," she said. 
 
 There was the shadow of an idea floating in the 
 young husband's mind that she might have got the 
 bottle for him, while he went after it himself. But 
 he said nothing. Then he left the house for the 
 office, and Anna went weariedly about the task of 
 clearing the table, every little while stepping into 
 the kitchen to tell Mrs. Ting about her tooth. 
 
 If Tom Griggs looked for any lightening of 
 the cloud when out of the atmosphere of his 
 home and in that of the office, he was not grati- 
 fied. It is more than likely he had no such ex- 
 pectation. It is a remarkable fact in connection 
 with the conduct of a country printing-office, that, 
 on the day when an extraordinary financial effort 
 is to be put forth, some mechanical or other 
 trouble arises. A form "pies," or an important 
 roller melts, or some one of the meagre force is 
 unexpectedly taken sick or drunk. A short bank- 
 account, and one, if not all, of these contingencies, 
 invariably conjunct on the day preceding publica- 
 tion. People of a superstitious turn are confident 
 there is something supernatural about this. In 
 
1 62 MR. PHILLIPS^ GONENESS. 
 
 the case of Tom Griggs it was the last-named 
 misfortune. Hazelton, being of a frail and sickly 
 cast, and not expected to live any great length of 
 time, had gone off on a broad and comprehensive 
 drunk. This fact was communicated to Tom, the 
 moment he entered the room, by Mr. Phillips, in 
 that helpless tone peculiar to the foreman of an 
 office when he is confronted by an emergency. 
 "A mighty poor look for the paper," he cheerfully 
 added. 
 
 Mr. Phillips' spirit communicated itself to Joe 
 Goodwin and "Lippy," and occasioned the former 
 to audibly observe, for the benefit of his employer, 
 "We'll be a day late, or I'm damned ! " 
 
 Whereupon Master Vanderlip was led to re- 
 mark, for the behoof, also, of the dejected editor, 
 that, if the paper got out at all that week, it would 
 be mighty lucky. 
 
 The editor sat down to his desk, and groaned 
 inwardly, while he involuntarily clasped his head 
 in his hands. Then he went at his books to 
 make out bills for collection. There was an array 
 of uncancelled figures in the columns that were 
 most grateful to the casual glance, but apples of 
 ashes in the teeth of him who gave them a 
 closer inspection. This party was out of town ; 
 or that one was to pay next month ; or there was 
 a counter-account from so-and-so ; or what's-his- 
 name wouldn't pay anyway : and so down one 
 column after another, until Tom Griggs began to 
 doubt if he could get bills enough for the desired 
 
THE WRONG SIDE OF TOM GR IOCS' BED. 163 
 
 amount, saying nothing at all of what he might 
 collect on them. And while he was at this labor 
 his muddled brain was tossed and convulsed by 
 the cry of " copy," and the demands of visitors, 
 and the queries of Mr. Phillips, who never before 
 so it seemed to his half-distracted chief was 
 so densely helpless and ignorant as to-day. That 
 nothing went right became apparent before the 
 day had gone far. Correspondents disappointed, 
 "sorts" ran out, one galley was pied, , and marvel- 
 lous stupidity seemed to settle on the compositors. 
 It seemed to the unhappy man as if visitors were 
 never half so numerous. There was a man who 
 had a farm to sell, and wanted fifty auction-bills. 
 He didn't have copy for the bill, not being used 
 to such things ; but he knew the printer could 
 write it out in a jiffy. Tom complied. Next 
 were three women, a committee appointed by 
 a church-society to get posters for a strawberry- 
 festival, and also to get a notice in the paper. 
 They had the copy for the poster, about enough 
 for a small pamphlet, and seemed to show a de- 
 termination to get it all on the bill in the biggest 
 type in the office. After a prolonged struggle 
 with them, he succeeded in getting their consent 
 to reduce the amount of matter. A full half-hour 
 was used up with this party. They were suc- 
 ceeded by a lank individual of a dim religious 
 aspect, and the escorter of a portmanteau. He 
 dealt in a line of lithographs. Tom hastily but 
 firmly assured him he did not want to buy, at the 
 
164 MR. PHILLIPS 1 GONENESS. 
 
 same time eying him with intense dislike. The 
 man said he did not want him to buy any thing : 
 he only wanted to show him some perfect gems of 
 art. Tom told him he didn't have time to look at 
 them. The proprietor of the gems assured him 
 it would not take a moment to see them, at the 
 same time opening the portmanteau, and taking 
 out a cluster of wares. The victim felt like brain- 
 ing him, but hesitated an instant on the verge of 
 the act, and in that instant he was lost. The 
 gems were spread out upon his desk, over the 
 copy, the bills, and the books, and the author of 
 the horror was expatiating upon their merits, while 
 his prey stared helplessly at the sight. Fortu- 
 nately, at this juncture, some one came in to see 
 about an advertisement : whereupon the agent, 
 with great forbearance, observed, 
 
 " My time is not very pressing. I'll wait until 
 you get through with this gentleman." 
 
 "I shall have to use this desk, and must ask 
 you to move your property," said Tom in despera- 
 tion. " I do not want to buy the pictures, and I 
 have no time to-day to look 1 at them." 
 
 "Perhaps some of your employees would like 
 to avail themselves of this opportunity to secure 
 a few rare copies," he pleasantly suggested. 
 
 Tom shuddered. The time of every man in the 
 office was precious. 
 
 " Copy," said Mr. Phillips. 
 
 The editor of "The Gallowhill Gazette" felt 
 that his reason was leaving him. 
 
THE WRONG SIDE Of TOM GRIGGS 1 BED. 165 
 
 " There is no time to attend to you," he savagely 
 protested, glaring at the agent. "There is not a 
 moment to spare here all day to-day." 
 
 The owner of the gems caught up his property, 
 and departed, very much at a loss to understand 
 why a free and enlightened press should be cursed 
 by a boorish management. 
 
 The half-stunned editor immediately after sever- 
 ally entertained the following parties : 
 
 A man with a Western paper containing a story 
 of a suicide which occurred several months be- 
 fore, and had been seen by Mr. Griggs some forty 
 odd times. He wanted the paper saved after the 
 article had been used, apd was some time in getting 
 away, owing to numerous injunctions to this end. 
 
 A woman with a poem, whom Tom thought to 
 escape by telling her he would read it at another 
 time, but ignobly failed, as the poem was an obit- 
 uary to be published that week. In despair, he 
 promised to print it, without more than a glance 
 over its twelve verses. She said she would want 
 five copies of the paper ; and that, she supposed, 
 would be compensation enough. 
 
 A man with a four-column newspaper article on 
 the phenomenon of atmospherical influences on 
 the Arizona cactus. He pronounced it the clear- 
 est and most logical exposition of this popular 
 subject he had seen, and was very anxious to have 
 it appear in the paper next day, Almost bereft of 
 breath by this suggestion, Tom told him that the 
 paper was already nearly full.- The man said he 
 
1 66 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 was confident there wasn't any thing in it one-half 
 as important as this, and room ought to be made 
 for it. 
 
 A man with a written account of a visit he had 
 made to Boston, being mostly a complimentary 
 description of the hotel at which he had stopped, 
 with the proprietor's name and the hotel's terms, 
 which the article spoke of as being exceedingly 
 reasonable. When published, he wanted a copy 
 sent to the landlord, who would probably sub- 
 scribe. 
 
 A man with sixty dollars' worth of advertising 
 of a patent medicine, to be inserted for eight dol- 
 lars ; also a five-dollar editorial, to be published in 
 consideration of getting the contract. 
 
 A man who had taken the right of the town to 
 sell a patent. window-fixture, and came in to tell 
 it, as he knew items of a local nature were always 
 acceptable. Having a fixture with him, he kindly 
 gave fifteen minutes of his time to explain its 
 workings, and was particular to see that the half- 
 numbed editor got his name spelled right. 
 
 A man who was an extensive grower of straw- 
 berries for the market, and who brought in ten 
 cents' worth of the fruit for the exclusive behoof 
 and enjoyment of the editor, and who thoughtfully 
 suggested, that, in case mention was made of it in 
 the paper, it might be added that he had plenty of 
 the article on sale. 
 
 A man who supposed the editor was glad to get 
 any thing to fill up the paper with, and so notified 
 
THE WRONG SIDE OF TOM GRIGGS' BED. 167 
 
 him that he had a few choice cabbage-plants to 
 sell, a fact many of the readers would be glad to 
 know. 
 
 This philanthropist had barely got out of the 
 door when the shrill factory-whistles announced 
 the hour of noon. Catching up the bills, and 
 determined to shake the dust of the office from 
 his feet until the bank matter was settled one way 
 or the other, Tom Griggs started home for a hasty 
 dinner. 
 
 The moment he got inside the house, his spirits, 
 which had risen somewhat in tho hasty transit 
 through the open air, fell considerably in the 
 doleful and dreary atmosphere of steam and soap. 
 The dining-room was as he left it in the morning, 
 excepting the table had been cleared of the break- 
 fast-dishes, and now held a tin pail full of blueing- 
 water, a pan of freshly wrung clothes, a clothes- 
 stick, a pasteboard box of clothes-pins, and a 
 partly used bar of soap. 
 
 "Gracious, Anna!" he ejaculated in dismay, 
 " ain't you got dinner ready yet ? " 
 
 "Dinner!" she returned, looking as much put 
 out as himself. " Why, it's only twelve o'clock ! 
 and we're washing. You ought to know that, 
 Tom." 
 
 " But I'm in an awful hurry, and I've got four 
 hundred things to do this afternoon." 
 
 " I can't help it, Tom. I try to do the best I 
 can ; but I can't do every thing, and my tooth has 
 made me half crazy : and you never said a word 
 
1 68 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 this morning about wanting dinner any earlier 
 than usual. Did you get the camphor ? " 
 
 " Thunder ! no : I forgot all about it. But no 
 wonder, for I've been about distracted with one 
 thing and another. Hazelton is off on a drunk, 
 too, to make matters worse." 
 
 " I'll get dinner now if you'll take those things 
 off the table," she said. 
 
 " I've got no time to wait," he hastily protested. 
 " I can eat what I Want in the pantry, I suppose." 
 And, suiting the action to the word, he helped him- 
 self to some bread and cold coffee, which he ate 
 as if in sullen protest of his wife's tardiness ; and 
 then he left. 
 
 Anna made no remark. She wished that her 
 husband could have had a hot dinner; but she 
 could not believe a man who so easily forgot an 
 errand would suffer for the want of a dinner. 
 
 Every moment of the time allotted him, Tom 
 worked like a beaver ; but, doing his very best, he 
 could not raise the sum he required. At a quarter 
 to three he lacked fifteen dollars of the amount. 
 In this strait he ran across a friend, and from him 
 he borrowed the necessary money, and got to the 
 bank in time to make the deposit, aad take up the 
 check; pocketing the latter just as the clock struck 
 three. 
 
 He reached the office relieved, but exhausted, 
 and took up the burden of the coming issue of the 
 paper. 
 
DESTINY COLLARS MR. PHILLIPS. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DESTINY COLLARS MR. PHILLIPS. 
 
 IN the beginning of the month of September 
 following the opening of this chronicle, Mrs. 
 Quimby's boarding establishment received an 
 acquisition in the person of a widow lady. She 
 came from the adjoining town of Sansgammon ; 
 and her mission to Gallowhill was to canvass for 
 " Woman's Sphere," a bulky subscription volume. 
 Her stay in the village was to extend through a 
 period of three weeks, and during it she was to 
 make her home with Mrs. Quimby. 
 
 She was a bustling little woman with bright 
 gray eyes, well-filled cheeks, an easily gliding 
 tongue, and a rather trim figure. She was most 
 favorably disposed toward Mr. Phillips, and took 
 every occasion to notice him. Some of the 
 boarders, of a worldly turn of mind, attributed 
 this attention to the fact that our friend was con- 
 nected with the village paper ; but Mr. Phillips 
 entertained no such sordid thought, and, had it 
 been suggested to him, he would have scouted it 
 at once. A highly complimentary notice of the 
 work, with the name of the canvasser, appeared in 
 
170 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 " The Gazette," the copy being in the symmetrical 
 handwriting of our gallant friend ; but it was a 
 valuable book, and deserved, without doubt, all 
 that was said of it. 
 
 The favor in which the widow contemplated him 
 was very gratifying to Mr. Phillips, as well as 
 being creditable to her powers of discrimination. 
 With that discernment peculiar to him in the ob- 
 servation of female character, he was not long in 
 discovering that she was a superior woman. 
 
 He studied her with increasing interest. He 
 escorted her to and from church twice, and was 
 agreeably impressed with her sensible views of 
 pulpit oratory and theological points. He also 
 took her to a fair and festival, and was so charmed 
 with her qualities of mind, that he actually forgot 
 where he was, and was relieved of eight dollars 
 and sixty cents before recovering himself. 
 
 He had known her a period of ten days, when 
 he became convinced, that, if he was ever to 
 amount to any thing in this life, his future must 
 be merged with hers. 
 
 He was passing into the sitting-room one even- 
 ing, intently thinking upon this matter, when he 
 came into her presence. She was the only occu- 
 pant of the room, and she was sitting by the win- 
 dow to get the benefit of what breeze was stirring. 
 When he saw that they were alone, he was very 
 much agitated, so plainly was the hand of Provi- 
 dence seen in the matter. 
 
 "Good-evening, Mr. Phillips," greeted the lady, 
 
DESTINY COLLARS MR. PHILLIPS. 171 
 
 with a smile of welcome that thrilled him to the 
 heart's core. 
 
 " Good-evening, Mrs. Richardson," he responded 
 in an agitated voice ; for he was thinking of the 
 opportuneness of the meeting, of the ordeal he 
 had determined to pass through, of the array of 
 bitter experiences that strewed the past. 
 
 " Are you not well, Mr. Phillips ? " she inquired 
 in deep solicitude. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I am well," he answered, smiling in 
 a ghastly manner. 
 
 " You do not look well," she added, as if in 
 doubt. " It is very warm. Perhaps the weather 
 affects you." 
 
 "It ain't the weather," he hastened to assure 
 her : " it is deeper than that, deeper than that, 
 Mrs. Richardson." 
 
 "What's deeper, Mr. Phillips? " 
 
 "The thing that's on my mind, and makes you 
 think I ain't well, Mrs. Richardson. Do you know 
 what I was thinking of when I came in this min- 
 ute ? " He gave her an enraptured glance. 
 
 " No, Mr. Phillips, I do not. What was it ? " 
 She smiled helpfully. 
 
 " I was thinking of you." 
 
 "Of me, Mr. Phillips? How strange that you 
 should be thinking of me! And what was you 
 thinking of in connection with me, Mr. Phil- 
 lips ? " 
 
 " I was thinking how much " The foreman 
 of " The Gazette " brought up as suddenly as if 
 
172 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 he had been shot, and shook like a leaf. He had 
 almost precipitated himself into the dreaded vor- 
 tex, without realizing that he was anywhere near 
 it. In an instant more he would have actually 
 done the deed ; but the fate that had relentlessly 
 pursued him for years overtook him at the very 
 edge of the crisis, and floored him in a flash. 
 His stomach sank ; his tongue clove to the roof 
 of his parched mouth. 
 
 Mrs. Richardson, at first startled by the un- 
 earthly appearance of his face, immediately re- 
 covered herself, and looked at him intently. 
 
 " How much what, Mr. Phillips ? " 
 
 He shook himself as if to shake off a giant, and 
 gasped, "How much I I I I I" He 
 could go no farther. The last pronoun expired in 
 his throat like the last gurgle in a pump, and he 
 sank with a groan into a chair. 
 
 The puzzled look in her face cleared up at once. 
 She immediately sprang into the breach. 
 
 " Do I understand, Mr. Phillips, that this ' much ' 
 refers to your regard for me ? " 
 
 " Yes," he eagerly answered. 
 
 " That your regard is very great ? " 
 
 "Yes," greedily. 
 
 " That you really love me ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes." A drowning man could not have 
 clutched more eagerly at a plank. 
 
 " That you want to marry me ? " 
 
 I do, I do." 
 
DESTINY COLLARS MR, PHILLIPS. 173 
 
 " Then I am your ticket, Mr. Phillips," promptly 
 confessed the blushing widow. 
 
 " Don't call me Mr. Phillips : call me Ez," cried 
 the delighted man, catching her in his arms. 
 
 " EZ ! " 
 
174 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WERE THEY BILIOUS? 
 
 OF course Mr. Phillips and the happy widow 
 had their wedding-day ; but it is not our purpose 
 to give the particulars of the ceremony. Already 
 have we stretched this simple story beyond its 
 'contemplated dimensions, and we must bring it to 
 a close. They were married at Quimby's. Mrs. 
 Quimby insisted upon this ; and, as the home of 
 the fair bride in Sansgammon was but a boarding- 
 place, she could easily consent to the proposal. 
 
 To be sure Tom and Anna were at the cere- 
 mony, although it did look at one time as if the 
 pleasure would not be theirs. The marriage was 
 to take place at an early hour in the day, and at 
 nine o'clock the carriage was to call for Tom and 
 his wife. This demanded lively action on Anna's 
 part. She had the breakfast to get and clear away, 
 and the other work to do, before she could dress 
 herself. So* much enforced haste made her ner- 
 vous and irritable, and the temperature of her 
 mind readily influenced him, the two being one. 
 Someway the cooking did not go right. It had to 
 be in a measure slighted, of course ; but the time 
 
WERE THEY BILIOUS? 175 
 
 thus saved did not appear to count much as an 
 advantage. As soon as Tom finished eating, he 
 proceeded to dress himself, while Anna hastened 
 to clear away the breakfast-things. He got a clean 
 shirt, and got it on, when he discovered that the 
 back button was off. This was a great shock to 
 Tom Griggs. If the crab-apple-tree in the front- 
 yard had stepped into the room, and lifted him by 
 his back hair, he could scarcely have been more 
 surprised and hurt. 
 
 He took off the garment, not, however, with 
 that deliberation one employs in peeling a banana. 
 Rather it seemed to come off as if by a sudden 
 impulse. Then he threw it back of him in a man- 
 ner that implied considerable agitation. He took 
 out another shirt, and examined it hastily. It was 
 in good condition, and he put it on. A moment 
 later, Anna in the pantry heard her name called. 
 
 " What is it ? " she cried. 
 
 " Where have you put my collars ? I can't find 
 them." 
 
 " They are in the drawer with your shirts," she 
 answered. 
 
 There was a moment of silence. 
 
 " They ain't here," he then asserted. 
 
 Anna hastened to the room, saying, "Dear 
 me!" 
 
 Her face fell as she saw the disordered bureau. 
 
 " O Tom ! what have you been doing ? " She 
 could have cried, she was so heated and vexed. 
 
 "I have been looking for those collars, and I 
 can't find them." 
 
1 76 MR. PHILLIPS' GONENESS. 
 
 She went to the bureau. 
 
 "They ain't there," he protested. 
 
 She made no reply, but picked up several of the 
 articles in the shirt-drawer, and brought forth a 
 collar. It was an ungenerous thing for her to do, 
 and Tom resented it. 
 
 "I don't see the sense, Anna, in putting my 
 collars in a place like that, where they can't be 
 found without burrowing like a woodchuck." 
 
 " They have always been kept there, and that is 
 the place for them ; and you would have found 
 them if you had looked." 
 
 "Look! Didn't I look, I'd like to know? "he 
 demanded. But she was back to her work again, 
 without replying to him. It was not, however, 
 because she wished to keep silent. Every moment 
 her voice came from the other rooms in such 
 encouraging observations as the following: 
 
 " Oh dear me ! 
 
 " I never can get ready, I know ! 
 
 " Here it is nearly eight o'clock, and nothing 
 done! 
 
 " Gracious ! what shall I do ? 
 
 " I sha'n't stop to make the bed. 
 
 " That carriage will be here before I've got half 
 through ! 
 
 "I'll leave the dishes in the sink until I get 
 back." 
 
 In the mean time Tom wrestled with the collar, 
 which refused for a long time to button ; and with 
 his stockings, that seemed determined to go on 
 
WERE THEY BILIOUS? 177 
 
 heels upward in spite of his frantic efforts to keep 
 them down. Then he had a time of it to find his 
 cuff -buttons, which some one had deliberately gone 
 off with. He knew this to be a fact, because he 
 distinctly remembered where he put the buttons 
 when he last used them, and they could not have 
 walked away themselves. Some one had, un- 
 doubtedly, broken into the house in the night, and 
 removed them. It was a contemptible trick any- 
 way. Anna was dressing herself now, and she 
 had too much to do to look up the buttons. But 
 she had no sympathy with the burglar theory. 
 If he had put the buttons where he said he did, 
 they would be there now. He was too vexed to 
 speak. It was so ungenerous, so harsh, for her 
 to say this. He would find them himself, or he 
 would go without them, before he would ask her 
 help. 
 
 Anna was using the glass to crimp her hair. 
 She was nervous, excited, heated. She never 
 knew her hair to be so contrary as it was this 
 morning ; and it never had been. She burnt her 
 hand too with the pencil. It seemed, as she ad- 
 mitted herself, she would go wild. 
 
 She hastily snatched a towel from the rack, and 
 something fell on the floor. It was a pair of soiled 
 cuffs. They were Tom's. In them were the but- 
 tons. His eyes fell on them the same time. He 
 turned his face from her at once, and picked up 
 the articles. 
 
 " I'd like to know who in thunder put them 
 there," he muttered. 
 
I7 8 MR. PHILLIPS* GONENESS. 
 
 " It must have been the burglar," she suggested. 
 
 " I know I didn't do it," he persisted, still with 
 his back toward her. 
 
 " Oh, it was the burglar ! " she hastened to assure 
 him. " He took the buttons, and then he hunted 
 up the dirty cuffs, and put the buttons in them, 
 and left them on the rack, under the towel." 
 
 " Come, Anna," he hastily said, " this is no time 
 for foolishness." 
 
 The carriage arrived a full quarter of an hour 
 before she was ready. This added to the flustra- 
 tion. He was all dressed, and, having nothing else 
 to do, went to the front-door to look at the car- 
 riage, and then came back and told her it was 
 there, and asked her how long she was going to 
 be ; and then went back to look at it again, and 
 immediately returned to tell her it was still wait- 
 ing, and would she never get ready. After doing 
 this a half-dozen times, the poor girl cried out in 
 desperation, 
 
 " Tom, if you can't help me, for pity's sake don't 
 drive me wild ! " 
 
 He sullenly retired. 
 
 Finally she was ready. She took her handker- 
 chief-box from a bureau-drawer to select a hand- 
 kerchief. As she lifted the box, a bit of paper fell 
 on the floor. She picked it up, gave it a hasty 
 glance, and threw it on the bureau. He came back 
 at this juncture, and saw the slip. As she took a 
 farewell glance in the glass, he looked at the writ- 
 
WERE THEY BILIOUS? 179 
 
 ing. It was brief, and in pencil. Its date was 
 more than a year old. It simply read, 
 
 " MY DEAR, PRECIOUS PET, I will be up at three 
 o'clock with a team to take you riding. I cannot bear to 
 have you look so tired as you did last night; and so I 
 must put aside my own work, and take you out for a while. 
 The fresh air will do you lots of good. When we are mar- 
 ried, darling, I won't let you get tired. 
 
 " Yours lovingly, 
 
 " TOM." 
 
 He dropped tbe paper suddenly, and hurried 
 with her to the carriage. 
 
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 book. With a world-wide fame, however, it is needless. His name is the synonyme 
 for fun, the world over; and to say that a reading of his book is the best remedy for 
 general debility known, must be a sufficient indorsement to give it an immense sale." 
 A merican Monthly, Philadelphia.. 
 
 PIZARRO : 
 
 His Adventures and Conquests. By GEORGE M. TOWLE. i6mo, handsomely 
 
 illustrated. $1.00. 
 
 " The exciting career of this great Spanish captain is familiar to all ; but previous 
 authors have generally failed to clothe the story with that easy familiar style so attrac- 
 tive to the young. Mr. Towle has succeeded in striking the happy medium between 
 dry details and romantic exuberance in his ' Pizarro.' His story opens with a graphic 
 picture of the young Pizarro's boy life; and the author carries the reader on, step by 
 step, with the career of the adventurous youth, until the conquest of Peru is com- 
 pleted." New-Haven Register, 
 
 VASCO DA GAM A: 
 
 His Voyages and Adventures. By GEORGE M. TOWLE. i6mo, illustrated. 
 
 $1.00. 
 
 These two volumes are the pioneers of a series of " Heroes of History." 
 " It will be remembered that Da Gama was in his day more famous than Columbus, 
 and that he discovered the way to India around the Cape of Good Hope. His life was 
 brimful of adventure, and the book will be of great interest to the young for whom it 
 is especially prepared, yet not the less interesting to older people who love history, 
 and the deeds of brave men when the earth was much younger than at present. It is 
 illustrated and well printed." Taunton Gazette. 
 
 Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt 
 of price. 
 
 LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers Boston. 
 
 C. T. DILLINGHAM New York. 
 
YB 72876 
 
 942094 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY